Through Someone Else's Eyes
by kitkatritrat
Summary: Half-Blood Prince through Draco's eyes, how he meets and falls in love with Astoria. Canon. -Kit Kat
1. A Task

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to Ms. J.K. Rowling**

**I don't mind flames at all, but I would prefer constructive criticism.  
**

It was cold out that day; the sky was grey and overcast with frothy evil-looking black clouds. The sky's mood fit the occasion. Draco felt alone and terrified. _Don't let it show, _he urged himself. Even with his mother's hand tightly gripping his upper arm, steering him though the tangled sharply-turning alleyways, he felt cold and out-of-place. Numerous times he tried to shrug her off, but she always resumed her clench-pulling him along-when he looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was following them, which was frequent. His mother, on the other hand, seemed more intent on getting were going. Down Knockturn Alley and into a small shop Draco knew too well. Soon, other joined them. Long black cloaks swept the old seemingly never-swept floor. Their faces varied from the madly excited (Aunt Bellatrix) to the uncomfortable (his own) to the merely bored (many others). Yet everyone seemed tense, on edge. He nervously adjusted his tie. Part of him wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. _I will join the powerful and the famed, _he reassured himself. Which, of course, was all he ever wanted.

Later that night, or, more correctly, quite early the next morning, Draco sat on the floor of his room and stared at his left forearm. It still burned harshly. His house-elf had offered a pain-relieving potion, but he had refused. He liked the idea of being brave, to be able to power though the pain. Inn the beginning it had been searing, unbearable. He studied the horrid mark on his arm. _I am a Death Eater_, he thought with relish, and only the barest hint of reluctance. And, for the first time in a while, he smiled.

A week or so later, Draco had been brooding in his room when his house-elf told him his mother needed to see him. He quickly ran downstairs and stood attentively in front of his mother. Narcissa Malfoy was seated rigidly in an antique armchair (a family heirloom inherited from Grandfather Abraxas Malfoy) in the drawing room and had a very upset look on her face. The room was large and beautifully decorated, with plush black carpet that covered most the stone floor. A large ornate mirror hung above a marble mantelpiece, below which a roaring fire burned. Still, the room seemed dark as the light from the fire only reached about a quarter of the room. The long curtains had been drawn over the diamond-pained windows.

"Draco," Narcissa began, her voiced cracked with fear, drawing out his name so it lasted awhile, "The Dark Lord," she paused, and Draco shuddered at the very mentioned of him, "has ordered to speak with you."

Draco recoiled. In his youth, before the return of the infamous He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, Lord Voldemort had been somewhat of a scary bedtime story. _He was powerful, _his father used to tell him, _the greatest Legimancer of all time. He was THE great dark wizard. He had abilities know one understood but everyone feared. He could strip your mind and leave it with nothing but pain and sorrow. I was his right-hand man. I watched him destroy and re-build the great dynasty intended to be by our ancestors. He was purifying the land, ridding it of Mudbloods and Blood-traitors, Muggle-lovers and Squibs. The purebloods once again reigned above. We even started muggle-hunting again (_he said this with a particular look on his face-as if he dearly missed the sport). _Then he was stopped, finished off by this _boy_, about your age now. No older than a baby at the time. Harry Potter was his name, how he did it we still don't know. Some say he might have powers no one knows, that he may be the next great dark wizard._

So of course, growing up, he had been curious. And when he first met this famed Harry Potter he tried to make a friend of him all the while thinking that if he was the next great dark wizard, it would be good to have him as an accomplice. But, alas, he had already befriended that blood-traitor Weasley, and rudely refused to shake Draco's hand. He soon learned that Potter was nothing more than an incompetent boy who had simply gotten lucky. He agitated Draco so much, and the two became arch enemies. Every time Draco saw Harry he was reminded the shame his family had been though, forcing his farther to lie and say that he had been under the Imperious curse. Forced to bribe many important people into lying for him. Forcing his family to be looked upon in shame by all those disgusting Muggle-lovers that (since the downfall of the Dark Lord) filled Britain. But most of all, he was the reason Draco's father was now in Azkaban, being tortured by Dementors. _But remember,_ his father had always said, _remember who you are. You are above them. You are powerful. You are pureblood. A pureblooded Malfoy, there is no higher standing._

But no the Dark Lord was back, and Draco soon realized that he was not simply some scary fairy-tale. He was real. Radiating evil and malice. He terrified Draco. Mostly Draco just tried to stay out of his way, but now he wanted to talk to him?

"What does he want?"

"I do not know, he would not tell me."

"What shall I say?"

"Whatever appeases him."

"When?"

"As soon as possible."

"Which means?"

"As soon as he gets here."

Draco gulped. Malfoy Manor had served as a sort of headquarters for the Death Eaters these past few months. Still, he got a little jolt every time he found out the Dark Lord was going to arrive.

Draco began to pace up and down the drawing room. _What shall I say? What could I have done to warrant a visit from the Dark Lord? _He turned quickly and, without another word to his mother, ran to hide in his room until the Dark Lord arrived. What would his father say? _"Get ahold of yourself, boy! You mustn't show fear, unless, of course, he wants you to." _Yes, that's exactly what Lucius would say. So that's what he would do.

Draco was surprised to find out that instead of sending the house-elf this time his mother had come to be the bearer of bad news.

The Dark Lord had arrived.

"He is waiting in the drawing room," she simply said. She looked stiff, unaffected. But Draco knew under the false calm Narcissa was nearly as worried as he was. He could see it in the way his mother's cold eyes darted back and forth. Draco walked slowly down the main hall. Generations of Malfoys were depicted in portraits along the hall. Their eyes followed him silently. He turned the bronze handle.

He was sitting at the head of the table. The light barely reached him from the large crystal chandelier, yet his face shone out of the gloom. His long black robes stood in shocking contrast to his deathly pale, almost translucent skin. His snakelike face was smirking, his slitted nostrils flared with superiority.

"Sit, Draco." The words slithered out of his mouth like the huge black snake he called Nagini at his feet. The room was Draco sat a few chairs down from Voldemort, far away enough to make Draco more comfortable, but close enough so the Dark Lord would not know he made Draco uncomfortable. Sadly, the expression on Draco's face gave away any negative feeling he had toward the great Dark Lord.

"You do not wish to be here, Draco?"

Draco tried to straighten his face. To be emotionless, like his father.

"No, my lord, it is the highest honor to have you present here," he said, trying to sound as much like Lucius as possible. Calm and insistent.

"You _lie_," Voldemort said scathingly. Everyone knew the one thing Voldemort hated the most was his followers lying to him. That guy had a lot of hatred in him. This meeting was obviously not going well for Draco. A short silence ensued; he didn't really know what to say next. He was scared, he knew higher-standing followers had been murdered on the spot for smaller offenses. He thought about apologizing, but he was worried that might make it worse. Luckily, Voldemort spoke again.

"I have an assignment for you."

Draco's head was reeling. An assignment…? This could not be good.

"Yes, my lord?"

"I am granting you a high honor, Draco. You know that for _years _I have been…pestered…by a certain wizard. Albus Dumbledore (the Dark Lord sneered as his said the name). I need him gone. You, Draco, I have granted the task of, oh how shall I put it…? Finishing him off?" The snake-man smiled, his blood-red eyes glinted. Nagini wrapped herself around the table leg and hissed softly.

Draco couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. He wanted him to kill someone? And not just anyone, but one of the most powerful wizards of the age? Of course, Dumbledore was a crazy old fool, his father had always said that. It _should _be easy, right? But to _kill_ someone. He was only sixteen.

"My…my lord, " Draco stuttered, unable to make eye contact he stared at his lap, "Why…why must I be the one to kill Dumbledore?" Fearful confusion contorted his pale, pointed face.

"What better task for a new, and so promising, initiate? Why, Draco," the snake man laughed, high and cruel, "you should be _happy_, to be set to such an honorable task." Voldemort leered, Nagini hissed. Voldemort softly stroked the snake head. It hissed again, softer this time, like a cat's purr.

"Yes, my lord, of course." Draco was shaking now. Sweat poured down him like a waterfall.

"You will not fail, Draco." It was a demand, not encouragement. Draco tried to speak put the words piled up and stuck in his throat.

"If you do…" he let it trail off into the horribly unknown, smirking all the while.

"And," the Dark Lord finished up, "you will have it done by the end of your school year, preferably sooner." Voldemort said it as if he were assigning a school project. Then he got up, Nagini following at his heels. Suddenly the previously unlit fireplace at the other end of the room roared bright, filling the room with light. Draco's jaw slacked as Voldemort turned into thick, black smoke, Nagini with him. At the same moment the fire burned green, and Voldemort flew across the room, over the table, and into the emerald fire, disappearing. Draco sank back into his chair, silently.

Draco sat on his bed, gripping the black comforter as though he might tear it to shreds.

"Surely…surely, he didn't mean..." Narcissa's eyes were wide with fear. She gripped her son's shoulders with an iron grasp, "tell…me…_exactly_…what he said…"

"I've told you…what he said…I've got to kill him."

"But you won't succeed, he knows you won't! He sends you on a suicide mission! Why…because he knows it'll will tear my Lucius apart…this has nothing to do with you, Draco! This is punishment for Lucius's mistake at the Ministry! Because he knows…he knows you can't…"

Draco suddenly shot up, standing with anger in his eyes, "You think I can't! Why couldn't I? I've been given an honor and all you can do is cry, Mother!" Draco made the decision right there he would not shrink away from this duty. If he succeeded he would be revered above all others, and if he failed he would die trying to uphold the family honor. But he couldn't…he wouldn't… fail.


	2. Over and Over Again

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. There are several instances thought this chapter and the entire fic where I directly quote JK Rowling's books. No copyright infringement intended.**

Draco was eating dinner a few days later when Narcissa returned from her "errand". This time she had brought Aunt Bellatrix along. Draco had never…liked…his aunt.

"Hello, darling," his mother said, it seemed as though she'd just been crying. Her voice was cracked and her eyes were red.

"Where've you been, mother?" Draco asked suspiciously, "You've been away for quite awhile. Ahh, and you've brought Auntie Bella-how nice,"he added, as though he'd just noticed. Bellatrix always demanded Draco call her Auntie Bella. She was a a bit-insane.

"Just visiting and old friend of your father's," said Narcissa.

"Whom?" asked Draco snoopily.

"Severus Snape," spat Aunt Bellatrix-her obvious dislike for Snape tainting her words.

Narcissa glared at her sister, as if this was information she'd rather not give away.

"Why?" inquired Draco.

"That is none of your business, Draco," snapped Mrs. Malfoy. Draco looked only slightly stung and resumed eating his dinner.

"I'd like to speak with you, Draco" said Bellatrix, her dark black eyes flashing.

"Of course," he replied. He'd accepted awhile ago that it's wisest to give Aunt Bella her way.

He slowly rose from his chair, straightening his black robes, which was a nervous habit of his. And, indeed, his aunt did make him nervous.

Bellatrix led him out into the hall, his mother looking anxiously behind him. She kept walking, down the hall, past the antique portraits that whispered to each other to low for him to hear. Bellatrix opened the big black front doors and led him outside to the lawn. The snow-white peacocks scattered away when she came near. The thick, well-trimmed grass sank beneath his feet. Bellatrix twirled around to face him. Her long, crazy black hair swished around her, in sync with her detailed black robes.

"I want to teach you something, Draco," she said, walking towards him, "now that you've joined the ranks of the greatest army to ever roam this earth (she giggled hysterically) well, you've got to protect yourself, dearie." She fluttered her heavily-lidded eyes. The looked evil in the twilight gloom. Then again, they always looked evil.

"How exactly?" asked Draco stiffly.

"Oh well, you know of the Dark Lords uncanny little ability to, lets say, pull things from your mind?"

"Yes?" he said impatiently, the mention of it made him uneasy.

"Well," she said, and for once Bellatrix seemed almost uncomfortable, "sometimes it is most prudent for us if we can oh, keep our little secrets to ourselves."

"Occlumency?" he asked, "but why would _you _feel the need to hide anything from him?"

This enraged Bellatrix. Her eyes flashed with anger.

"_I_," she started hysterically," have never felt the need to keep anything from the Dark Lord! He trusts me! But…there are others…_you_ on the other hand Draco…" her voice had gone very soft, and yet her high, crazy pitch remained, "_you _might need need a little extra, lets say, protection." They were nose to nose now.

Suddenly, Bellatrix pulled out her wand and, before Draco even had time to figure out what it was she was about to do, she shouted, "_Legimens!_"

Images flashed through Draco's head. His first day at Hogwarts, the Sorting Hat after barely gracing his head screaming, "_Slytherin,". _His first Quidditch game. Pansy Parkinson admitting, as though it wasn't already obvious, that she had a crush on him…

"Stop!" Draco screamed. He was on the ground, hyperventilating. Bellatrix stooped over him and laughed madly.

"You need to close your mind!" she snapped, "Focus one thing, anything, let nothing else enter, do not _wander_! Now…_Legimens_!" Draco didn't even have time to get off the ground.

Christmas morning, Potter not shaking his hand, the morning he found out he was made Prefect, Voldemort…

He tried to focus. _One thing_, he thought as the memories zoomed through his head and into Bellatrix's, _anything. _

_ Father,_ the thought, _think about Father_._ Think about how angry you were when he was taken away, because of Potter. All because of Potter…_

His anger consumed him. His father appeared in his head. Tall, pale. . .his face was stern, unmoving. He could feel Bellatrix trying to press in, break though his thoughts. She did, eventually.

"Good try, Draco!" She squealed, she pursed her full lips and then said, "But, must do better, again…_Legimens_." And on they went, over and over again Bellatrix hit him with the spell. Over and over again he thought of his father, only his father. Soon it was dark out, and all his could see was the great grey moon, and hear his aunt's voice as she shouted, "_Legimens!_" Each time Draco could hold her off longer, until it came a time we she could not break through at all.

"Good, Draco! Good…remember the Dark Lord will be much harder to evade. Now, I must be going. Things to do, things to do. We'll practice again, dearie." And with that she walked to the great black iron gates. Raised her hand (as if in a salute) and walked straight through them as though they were made of smoke. She cackled one more time before she Dissapparated into thin air.

_It's certain_, he thought, _she's mad._

Aunt Bellatrix came by a few more times to 'practice'. By the end Draco could ward her off easier and easier. He was exhausted by the end of the summer holidays.

Draco had managed to appear considerably glad about his task to everyone who had been allowed to know about it. But as the days crept by, he became more and more worried. _How?_ he wondered often. He had come to the conclusion that he couldn't do it alone. He couldn't. He would need some assistance. _Death Eaters_, he thought,_ many of them. _Of course, only he himself could kill Dumbledore. But there would be a fight, he couldn't just kill the Headmaster out of nowhere. He had other thing to worry about, too. He was a NEWT student now, and a Prefect, and there was Pansy, and he had Apparation classes…

_Apparation,_ he wondered, _is it hard_? He'd accompanied his father in Side-Along Apparation once. It wasn't exactly fun. He tried to remember what other, older, students had told him about it. His half-friend Montague had never even passed his test. He remembered the story Montague used to tell,

_ I was trying' to take House points from Gryffindor see,_ he would say, _from those two idiotic Weasley twins _(he and his friends would snicker), _when they shoved me into the Vanishing Cabinet_._ I was trapped in there _forever_. Sometimes I could here what was going on at Hogwarts, other times, I could hear another place, Borgin and Burkes, I think. I screamed for help, but I couldn't make anyone hear me. Finally, I Apparated out. I've never passed my test, but I did it. Almost died in the process. _( everyone would look impressed and look in awe) _I was stuck in the Hospital Wing for weeks, being fed awful blue potion by Madam Pomfrey._

It was I pretty good story, although Draco was sure Montague had exaggerated parts. _There must be a second one, _he thought, _in Borgin and Burkes._ _But he couldn't get through,_ he figured, _because it was broken. If not, there would be sort of a passage…you could get to Borgin and Burkes through it…and you get into Hogwarts through…._

Draco, who had previously been reclining in a chair in the drawing room, stood up straight. _That's it!_ _I could get them in through Borgin and Burkes, I'd have to fix the passages first, but…._

This was the answer he needed. Nothing could stop him then.

Diagon Alley had changed. The beautiful displays in the windows, the people bustling happily about, doing their shopping, they were gone. Instead there was a dark, nearly deserted lane, the windows of the shops covered by Most Wanted posters and Ministry of Magic security advice. His aunt-Undisirable #1-laughed manically at him from the nearest poster. The Weasley's shop was the only one flourishing. People were packed inside, laughing and forgetting about all the nastiness going on. Draco wanted that luxury, to be able to laugh, to be happy.

His mother had decided to go to Madam Malkin's first, he need new school robes. He argued with her as they shopped,

"I am not a child, in case you hadn't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping _alone_." In reality, he just wanted to ditch her so he could get down Knockturn Alley and into Borgin and Burkes. He had was trying on a spangled dark green robe when some people entered the shop. Madam Malkin clucked,

"Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child-"

"Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!" he snapped, even though he really hadn't been pricked, he was rather agitated with this little woman who was trying to fit him into these expensive robes he had nagged his mother into buying him. He walked out from behind the clothing rack had been standing behind and went to examine himself in the mirror. It took him a few seconds before he noticed the people standing behind him in the mirror. His cold, stone grey eyes narrowed. Harry Potter and his friends. That muggle-born Granger stood there, bold as bronze. A perfect example of the work to be done in the wizarding world, what he was helping to accomplish. He relished the thought. Quickly, he said,

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in." Potter and Weasley raised their wands at him. He sneered.

"There's no need for language like that! And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!" said Madam Malkin quite sharply. Glaring first at Draco, then Potter and Weasley. Draco was quick to notice that Granger's eye was black. _Serves her right, _he thought.

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," he said, "Who blacked your eye Granger? I want to send them flowers." Madam Malkin seemed extremely upset now.

"That's quite enough!" she almost shrieked. She looked at Mrs. Malfoy for help, "Madam-please-" Narcissa walked out from behind the rack. _ She really thinks she''ll help her?_ he thought with a grin, _As if she'll try to control me or something._ Instead of reprimanding her son, the tall, blonde woman turned to Harry and Ron.

"Put those away, if you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do." Draco let out a low chuckle.

"Really?" asked Potter as he stepped toward Draco's mother, "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

Madam Malkin clasped her hands over her chest and squealed, "Really, you shouldn't accuse-dangerous things to say-wands away, please!" But Potter didn't lower his wand, Narcissa only smiled.

"I see that veing Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you." Draco gulped as he remembered exactly _who_ was supposed to make sure Dumbledore wouldn't be there anymore.

"Wow…look at that…he's not her now!," said Potter idiotically, "So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!" _How dare he!_ thought Draco, _insult my father _and _mother. How dare he speak with such disrespect towards a woman with more class than he and his whole party put together!_ Draco lunged at Harry, he wanted to rip his limbs off, but he tripped over his long robe, looking like an fool. The blood-traitor laughed disgustingly loud.

"Don't you dare talk to my mother like that!" he snarled.

"It's all right Draco," Mrs. Malfoy said while she held him back…he was still trying to tear Potter apart, "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius." And Draco thought he'd gotten his sharp tongue from his father…

The Mudblood tried to restrain Potter. Madam Malkin stooped to adjust the robes that Draco, who was still glaring menacingly at Harry, was wearing.

"I think that this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just-" Drat, that horrid woman! His Dark Mark, if anyone saw, knew, about that…he needed to ward her off.

"Ouch!" he yelled, "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother-I don't think I want these anymore-" He shrugged off the garment and threw it on the floor.

"You're right, Draco," she said, "now I know the kind of scum that shops her…We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's." And with that they left of the shop, Draco trying to ram into Weasley as hard as he could on his way out.

**Okay, so I know what your thinking, "Where's Astoria!" Well, don't worry. She comes in in the next chapter or two. This is **_**Draco's **_**story after all. :)**


	3. Sir

**Sorry this chapter has taken forever. I directly quote JK Rowling **_**a lot**_** in this chapter, especially towards the end. She owns everything, all credit to her. The first half of next chapter will, too. Everything after that will have far less. It'll be much more my writing than hers. No Astoria yet, but she's coming. Thank you to everyone who reviewed or followed or favorited my fic! I really appreciate your support!**

Draco had finally been able to get rid of his mother. He had left her at the bookstore, saying he had to use the restroom. He was thoroughly shocked that she had fallen for pretty much the oldest trick in the book. Of course, he knew it wouldn't be too long before she noticed that he was gone. He knew there was a reason to his mother's and Madam Malkin's warnings. Nevertheless, he was walking the dark streets alone. He looked over his shoulder as he passed Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The feeling his was being followed suddenly overtook him. He brushed the feeling off as unnecessary cowardice. For he surely believed there was such a thing as necessary cowardice, but this was not the time, though perhaps the place.

Knockturn Alley was, as always, cold and uninviting. Though more so now than ever. A poster of Fenrir Greyback, Most Undesirable #2, growled at him. He shivered, though not from the piercing cold. Ever since a young age Draco had had a fear of werewolves. He had never admitted this to anyone, naturally. It was hard for him ever when Greyback had started to "hang around" with the Death Eaters. So far Draco had not been forced to speak with him, but every he was confronted with those hungry yellow eyes he had to hold back a shiver. The full moon had long haunted him in his dreams. He had grown up hearing horror stories from friends, or eavesdropping on adult conversations. Some of them were only ghost stories, of course. But ghost stories were a lot scarier when you knew ghosts were real.

Draco entered Borgin and Burkes. The shop was old and creepy. Bottles of poison lined the old, dusty shelves. Cobwebs weaved among the Dark objects for sale. Draco passed a small bottle of sickly green poison and then a glittering silver necklace with opals. The card next to it read, _Caution: Do not touch. Cursed-Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date._

He smirked. The cabinet rested somewhere in the middle of the small shop. It was tall, made of dark wood with a silver handle. He rang the small copper bell at the desk.

"Hello," said Mr. Borgin as he entered the room, a stooping old man with greasy grey hair and evil-looking eyes, "looking for something?"

"Yes, in fact," he answered,"that cabinet." Borgin grinned evilly and nodded.

"What for…it's of no use." It was Draco's turn to smile.

"It has a twin…in Hogwarts. But the other is broken. I need to fix it."

"Of course…of course," muttered Borgin, "but what for?"

"That," snapped Draco, "is none of your business." A short silence ensued. "So?" he asked impatiently, "do you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly. I'll need to see it, though. (Malfoy frowned) Why don't you bring it into the shop?" Truly, this man was an idiot.

"I can't. I's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything." He was being difficult on purpose. Draco was going to have to be a bit harsher with this stupid old man.

"No?" he sneered, "Perhaps this will make you more confident." Draco wrenched up his left sleeve, revealing his Dark Mark. Borgin looked very afraid. _I've terrified him, _Draco thought with pleasure. "Tell anyone," he continued, "and there will be retribution." He liked the idea of being respected, honored in a way. He liked to control people, and Borgin was easier to control than Draco thought. "Know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend (_Well,_ he thought, _that isn't entirely true. But who cares?). _He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention." Surely, he could arrange that…

"There will be no need for-" Borgin began. Draco felt like laughing now. Borgin seemed almost as scared of Greyback as Draco was. He could use that to he advantage.

"I'll decide that," he said, cutting the old man short, "Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep _that _one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?" Draco groaned internally.

"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not…" Borgin began, still looking terrified, added, "…sir" Borgin then proceeded to give Draco a deep bow. _Sir_, well that was a change of pace. _I ought to threaten people like this more often_, the young Malfoy thought happily. Then another, less joyful, thought struck him…what if his mother found out?

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin (Draco didn't think twice about 'forgetting' the man's title of respect), and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," muttered Borgin, who bowed a second time. Draco's pride continued to swell. He walked out of the shop, smirking.

Much to his displeasure, Draco's mother decided to give him a very long lecture about _safety_ and _listening to her_ and other things Draco didn't really pay much mind to. She wanted to know where he had been, of course, and, of course, he lied.

"Wandered around…" he drawled, "enjoying the blissful freedom you _deprive _me of." This prompted another round of lectures from Narcissa.

He decided to postpone asking that particular favor from Greyback, or talking to him at all, until absolutely necessary.

Another week later Draco stood in front of the Hogwarts Express, listening to owls hoot and the younger children crying, not wanting to leave their parents. Draco felt much differently, he couldn't wait to board and leave his mother, who was going on about safety and how much she would miss him. It irked Draco that she had no faith in him. _ Pretty soon,_ he thought to himself, _I will be most favored of all the Dark Lord's followers. Then she will trust me. Then she will respect me. And, maybe, then she will stop seeing me as a child._

Narcissa finally let him go, ending her monologue, which he had not been listening to until now with,

"Your father would be proud of you." This caught him by surprise. His father was never had never been proud of him. Yet it was something Draco had always strived for. This was an option he had never considered. If he succeed in the Dark Lord's Quest, would his father be even more proud of him?

"You suppose?" he asked her, not knowing what to expect.

She simply nodded, her eyes watering up.

He picked his bags and walked away without another word, the idea seemed preposterous. Lord Voldemort promised soon all of his faithful followers in Azkaban would be released. Maybe, once that happened, Lucius Malfoy could tell his son he was proud of him himself.

Draco stepped onto the train, it whistled and his owl hooted loudly. He turned back to looked at his mother. The exhaust from the train was making it hard to see, but even then he could see the pride in her eyes.

"Goodbye," he said formally, then turned away, not wanting to watch her wave him goodbye. Not wanting to see her foolish tears.

Narcissa never knew want he had said, the train had been too loud. She couldn't read his lips through the smog. She hoped it had been, "I love you." Even, "I'll miss you." Or simply, "Don't worry." Maybe it was better she didn't know, because a simple "Goodbye" Would have broken her heart. If it wasn't already in pieces.

On his way to find a compartment, Draco ran into someone he really did not wish to see.

"Draco!" she shrieked, thawing her arms around his neck, "I haven't seen you in _forever_." Draco doubted if anyone could drag out the word 'forever' longer than Pansy just did.

"And why haven't you _written_. You could have _died_ and I wouldn't have known about it." True enough, Pansy had pestered him with letters all summer long. Which he proceeded to ignore.

"Oh well," she said, and giggled, "you're here now. And we can be _together_."

_Together_ was something that Draco did not wish to be with Pansy Parkinson. Especially when the word 'forever' followed it. He had put up with letting her be his girlfriend for two years. He wasn't really sick of it, but he had more important things on his mind than her. Every since he had asked her to the Yule Ball she had been under the impression they were 'in love'. It occasionally got annoying, but having someone obsessed with you isn't too miserable. At least, that's how he rationalized it.

He let her hang on him for about seven or eight more seconds before her brushed her off.

"It's a pleasure to see you again…" he began, while Pansy beamed at him, "and I think I'll go sit in the Prefect's compartment now." He smiled at her and began to walk away.

"Oh, no," she said, looking pouty, "we've already got a compartment. It's you and me (giggle) and Blaise. And Crabbe and Goyle." She crinkled her nose. Pansy wasn't very fond of his to pathetic sidekicks. He'd thought about ditching them this year. Certainly he'd have better friends now he was aligned with the Death Eaters? But, no, Lucius had always told him to never cut off an ally. No matter how obnoxious.

He dejectedly followed her to the compartment. Crabbe was reading a comic while Blaise and Goyle were discussing this year's Quidditch world cup. As soon as he entered Goyle moved over next to Crabbe so Pansy could sit next to Draco. Draco was going to have to punish him for that later…

Draco sat solemnly in thought for awhile, not paying much attention to anyone else. The other three boys continued to babble on, occasionally trying to include Draco in their conversation. Pansy played with his hair and kept trying to hold his hand. The Mudblood Granger passed by with Weasley. Normally, Draco would have bothered with an insult, but today he was to preoccupied with his own thoughts. He settled with flipping them off, at which the other members of the compartment smirked and Pansy giggled. That was starting to get on his nerves.

A few minutes later a small Slytherin boy arrived with a message for Blaise.

"From Professor Slughorn," he said meekly, probably a first or second year, "the new teacher." He held out a scroll tied with a purple ribbon, which Blaise took from him, and then scampered away. Blaise muttered something about "pesky little kids" and began to read…

_" Blaise,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite to eat in compartment C._

_Sincerely,_

_Professor H. E F. Slughorn"_

_ "_Wonder what he wants with me," Blaise wondered aloud. Everyone else seemed to think the same thing.

"Perhaps…" Draco said, "He's trying to hunt out the Death Eaters." Pansy gasped.

"Why?" Blaise inquired.

"Well," Draco began, "I've heard of Slughorn. He used to teach Potions in my father's day. Hates the Dark Arts. Maybe he's hunting down suspects…"

"You may be right," Blaise said coldly, "but then wouldn't he be after you and not me?" Pansy let out another squeal. Draco only smiled.

"Maybe you're scarier than me, Blaise," he replied sarcastically. He'd meant to be funny, but Blaise didn't seemed to get the joke.

"Maybe your not teachers' pet anymore, Malfoy."

Draco scowled, he didn't think Blaise was so resentful about Draco being Snape's favorite. But he was caught off guard more by his friend's sudden uptightness, and since when were they on a last-name basis?

"Well, I don't actually care, believe it or not. So why don't you go and enjoy your 'bite to eat'."

"I will," Zabini retorted, slamming the compartment door behind him.

"What's his problem?" asked Crabbe, speaking for the first time.

"I think…" began Pansy, "…I think he's mad at Draco for accusing him of being in with the Death Eaters." Draco was surprised, Pansy had said something smart for a change.

"Then wouldn't that've been a compliment?" Draco asked, smiling again.

"I think _he_ thinks you meant it as an insult," Pansy answered. Draco slumped back into his seat. Pansy was confusing him. What's worse was he knew she was wrong. Blaise wasn't upset because he thought Draco had insulted him. He was mad because he knew Draco thought he was better than him, and now that he had something to prove he wasn't, Draco had thought up an easy explanation to why it only lowered Zabini's social standing. Then again, in Slytherin House being associated with the Death Eaters was (as Draco had just mentioned) more of a compliment than an insult.

During Zabini's absence Draco took the opportunity to stretch across his and his friend's now vacant seat and put his head in Pansy's lap. Pansy was beyond delighted and soon started stroking his hair. He closed his eyes and enjoyed it while making small talk with Crabbe and Goyle.

About three-quarters of an hour later Blaise returned, looking slightly unhappy. The eliding door of the compartment refused to close, and once Zabini managed to slam it shut, he fell over on top of Goyle. Goyle and Blaise immediately started snapping at each other. Draco sat up suddenly. While all the commotion was occurring Draco thought he saw a shoe float in midair above the luggage shelf. He wondered…

Blaise took a seat next to Crabbe this time, apparently still mad at Draco.

"So, Zabini," Draco began, deciding to mirror his friends attitude by using his last name, "what did Slughorn want?"

"Just trying to make up to well-connected people. Not that he managed to find many." Draco fumed at this. He had been trying to connect with important students and hadn't asked _him?_ He wondered who else had been granted the title of, "well-connected people".

"Who else had he invited?" Draco harshly demanded.

"McLaggen from Gryffindor." He invited _that_ idiot?

"Oh, yeah, his father's big in the Ministry," Draco commented. _Not nearly as important as my father_, he grumbled to himself.

"-someone else called Belby, from Ravenclaw-" Oh, no…Pansy wouldn't like that. Sure enough,

"Not him, he's a prat!" she whined. Marcus Belby had once insulted Pansy in their fourth year. He'd called her a some sort of a name, and Pansy had had it out for him ever since. To tell the truth, something Draco didn't do often, he was a bit tired of hearing about what a loser Marcus Belby was…

"-and Longbottom, Potter, and that Weasley girl." _Longbottom?_ Not just Haughty Potter and the blood-traitor but _Longbottom?_ Draco knocked Pansy hand out of the way, sitting up suddenly.

"He invited_ Longbottom?_"

"Well, I assume so, as Longbottom was there."

"What's Longbottom got that would interest Slughorn?" More exectly, what did he have that Draco didn't? Blaise only shrugged.

"Potter, precious Potter," Draco sneered, "obviously he wanted a look at '_the Chosen One'_, but that Weasley girl! What's so special about _her_." He'd learned to tolerate Potter getting special treatment, but the blood traitor was something different.

"A lot of boys like her," said Pansy jealously, eyeing Draco for his reaction,"even you think she's good-looking, don't you, Blaise, and we all know how hard you are to please!" It was common knowledge Pansy had asked Blaise to the Yule Ball before Draco had asked her, and he had turned her down flat. Sometimes Draco thought Blaise regretted that decision, he often looked upon the couple with envy. Which was another reason Draco kept Pansy around, to keep Zabini's pride level down a notch.

"I wouldn't touch a filthy little blood traitor like that whatever she looked like." Draco relaxed, he lay back down and let Pansy stroke his hair again.

"Well I pity Slughorn's taste," Draco began, "maybe he's going a bit senile. Shame, my father always said he was a good wizard in his day. My father used to be a bit of a favorite of his. Slughorn probably hasn't heard I'm on the train, or-"

"I wouldn't bank on an invitation," Zabini rudely interrupted him, "He's asked me about Nott's father when I first arrived. They used to be old friends, apparently, but when he heard he'd been caught at the Minisrty he didn't look happy, and Nott didn't get an invitation, did he? I don't think Slughorn's interested in Death Eaters." Anger boiled inside him. Zabini was openly accusing him of being connected with the Death Eaters. If only he know how right he was…why not confirm his suspicions? He forced out a single chuckle.

"Well, who cares what he interested? What is he, when you come down to it? Just some stupid teacher (Draco yawned loudly). I mean, I might not even be at Hogwarts next year, what's it matter to me if some fat old has-been likes me or not?"

"What do you mean you might not be at Hogwarts next year!" Pansy said sharply, and stopped grooming his hair. Draco could tell from the look in her big, hazel eyes the thought of losing him was too much. According to her letters, a single second without him was torture. Draco thought that was cheesy, but he liked her practical addiction to him.

"Well, you never know. I might-er (he had to be careful here)-moved on to bigger and better things." Everyone looked shocked. Pansy stared at him without adoration.

"Do you mean-_Him?" _she nearly whispered. They were all aware who _'He'_ was.


	4. Glimpse

The air on the train was cold. Pansy shivered, but that wasn't why. Draco was enjoying the effect he had created. Malfoy yearned to say more, to give it all away. But he couldn't. He only shrugged. He liked how Crabbe's jaw nearly reached the compartment floor, how Pansy's face was carved into revered shock. He caved…

"Mother wants me to complete my education, but personally, I don't see it as important these days. I mean, think about it…when the Dark Lord takes over, is he going to care how many O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s anyone's got? Of course he isn't…It'll be all about the kind of service he received, the level of devotion he was shown."

"And you think _you'll_ be able to do something for him? Sixteen years old and not even fully qualified yet?" Zabini spat._ Fine, _Draco thought, _go and ruin my moment, I'll show you, you blithering…_

But he didn't. He just sat there and smirked. Because he was the better person, or at least, the more important person. And Blaise was so, so very very wrong. He had already been accepted by the Dark Lord. When Draco finished his little job Zabini would kiss the ground he walked on.

"I've just said, haven't I? Maybe he doesn't care if I'm qualified. Maybe the job he wants me to do isn't something that you need to be qualified for," he said softly, watching for their reactions. He was not disappointed. Crabbe and Goyle looked like idiots even more than usual with their mouths hanging wide open. And Pansy…well, she looked at him as if he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Like he was some sort of superhero. Or supervillian…

But he knew he had made a mistake. He felt the worry start near his heart and begin to poison his blood. No one was supposed to know. His mother would have a heart attack she knew he had said anything. And the Dark Lord…no, he wouldn't even consider that possibility. He knew everything though, the Dark Lord. His father had always told him nothing was secret from Voldemort. He could slither into your mind a find your darkest memories and fears. But Draco wouldn't let him. For once he was thankful for those harsh lessons with Bellatrix. But he could feel the questions building up in his friends like bullets they were about to shoot at him. Maybe saying this wasn't so bad, but to say anymore would be truly treacherous.

He glanced out the window, the clouds were as dark as always, swirling over the tops of Hogwarts.

"I can see Hogwarts" he stated, glad he had an excuse to stop talking, "We'd better get our robes on."

While he pinned his silver Prefect badge to his chest, he thought he heard a muffled sound come from luggage rack. The train stopped and they began to leave the compartment. Blaise made a point of leaving quickly, and Crabbe and Goyle blundered behind him. Pansy stayed behind. She glanced at Draco and held out her hand.

_She thinks I'll hold it, _he thought with a snigger. She was so pitiful.

"You go on," he told her, as he watched pull her hand back and her face whither, "I just want to check something." Pansy left dejectedly as Draco pulled down the compartment's blinds. He didn't want anyone to happen to see this.

He bent down over his trunk and pretended to look for something. Then, hoping to catch him off guard, he shouted,

"_Petrificus Totalus!"_

A large mass fell from the luggage rack and onto the floor. It was Potter. He was frozen on the floor in a hilarious kneeling stance, his glasses askew. His Invisibility Cloak was trapped beneath him.

"I thought so," Draco said and laughed, "I heard Goyle's trunk hit you. And I thought I saw something white flash thought the air after Zabini came back…" He looked at Potters old white sneakers.

"You didn't hear anything I care about, Potter…" That wasn't true at all. I reality, the fear had already seeped into his veins and overtook his mind. It was one thing if a couple of nobody Slytherins knew, but Potter? The _Chosen One?_ Draco gazed down at Potter. Harry Potter was the reason his life was miserable. And the reason his father was gone. The reason his mother cried at night. Or he thought so, anyway. "But while I've got you here…" He smiled once, and then kicked Potter hard, in the face. Blood ran out his nose onto the floor, it spurted on Draco's shoe. But that wasn't enough. He couldn't see the pain rack his face.

"That's from my father. Now let's see…" Draco tugged the cloak from under Potter and threw it over it's owner.

"I don't reckon they'll find you till the train's back in London. See you around Potter…or not." Draco took care to walk on Potter's fingers, and then left the compartment. As he walked down the corridor and out of the train, he thought angrily to himself, _I hope he feels the pain he caused me. I hope they never find him, that he disappears from earth._

There were only a few people left now, he walked towards the carriages. Pansy waved at him from one.

"Where have you _been, _I've been worried sick about you!" she shrieked. A couple of Hufflepuffs in the carriage ahead of him snickered. _I've been gone for ten minutes…_he thought, rather irritated. He wiped Potter's blood off his shoe into the grass before he took his seat next to Goyle. Blaise had taken the seat next to Pansy. Probably to try to annoy him. _He's actually done me a favor. _Pansy looked at Zabini with a pleading smile. He didn't move an inch.

The carriages started moving. Draco watched the Thestrals pull them along, their hooves making no sound on the cobbled path to Hogwarts castle. Their black leathery skin didn't seem nearly enough in the bitter cold. He pitied the poor animals. He didn't like what they reminded him of, though. Death. The tall trees loomed all around them. Draco closed his eyes and listened to the wind whistle sharply and stir the leaves.

Draco and his friends did not talk all the way to the castle. The watched Sorting, bored. And listened as Dumbledore introduced Slughorn as the new Potions teacher. Draco barely ate, picking at his mashed potatoes. Then he started levitating his fork.

"Sooo…" Pansy began, "what were you doing?" Draco sighed.

"Oh, just teaching an old enemy of mine a lesson." Crabbe and Goyle perked up at this, but also looked a bit disappointed, like they were upset Draco had beat someone up without them.

"Let's just say Potter's nose might not stop bleeding until he graduates."

The days slipped by like sand though Draco's hands. His mind buzzed with only the thought of finding the mysterious cabinet. He tried dark corridors and dungeons, classrooms and dorm rooms. He was slowly starting to worry. The entire plan would crash around his ears if he couldn't even _find _the cabinet.

His first Potions lesson was today. He sat in the back of the class next to Theodore Nott. Nott could be a bit annoying but he also had a killer sense of humor. As usual, Granger was showing off again. The Mudblood irritated him to no end. Slughorn seemed impressed with her.

"Granger? Granger? Can you possibly be related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, who founded the most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?" asked the old professor.

"No, I don't think so, sir. I'm Muggle-born, you see." Draco leaned in close to Nott and whispered,

"Maybe if Mudblood Granger actually was related to someone of any importance she'd have better friends than Loony Lovegood." They both sniggered, neither really paying attention to the lesson until,

"…that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger."

"It's Liquid Luck," she said, ever so proud of herself, "It makes you lucky."

Draco sat up straight in his chair. _Liquid Luck?_ If he had that then…

"…and that is what I will be offering for a prize in this lesson."

They were set to making Draught of Living Death. Draco flipped through his potions book, trying to find the instructions. It was a long, complicated potion. He worked hard, cutting and chopping ingredients. He poured and measured. The steam coming off his potions clogged his senses and made him dreary. He had always had a free pass in potions when Snape taught. If only Slughorn favored him like Snape had…

"Sir," he began, as Slughorn passed by his table,"I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?"

Slughorn did not even look him in the eye when he said, "Yes. I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age…" Obviously, Slughorn wasn't going to show him any special favor like he did Potter and Blaise. Draco he heard the old man even had some sort of special club for top students. The "Slug Club" they called it. Even the name was disgusting.

In the end, Potter ended up winning the little bottle of luck. He one by favoritism, and Draco hated it. Now even his favorite subject wasn't enjoyable anymore.

He hurried out of potions, angrily slamming his book shut. Pansy tried to talk to him on the way out, but he brushed her aside. He was pondering his problem with finding the cabinet when, as he walked alone down a deserted corridor, he heard a sound. He looked over his right shoulder and, shocked, dropped his books. A door had appeared out of nowhere. He scooped up his things and turned the handle. Inside was a huge room, so big he couldn't even see the other walls. It was filled with things. Old books and potion ingredients and musty furniture. There was some ancient-looking broomsticks leaned against a record player. A tiara and an old bird cage were to his left, next to some old sherry bottles. He knew this room. It was the place Potter and his friends had used for their pathetic little meetings. The Room of Requirement.

And to his left was an old, broken cabinet-made of dark wood with a tarnished silver handle.

Draco began working almost immediately. He tried every fixing or rebuilding spell he knew. He managed to restore the cabinet to it's previous physical appearance, even polished the handle. But it's magical properties remained nonexistent, or at least in hibernation.

Draco poured over books in the library, trying to find something that would help him. The first step would be making sure it could have inanimate travel the passage. Then living things. Then people.

He spent days working. Every spare minute went into fixing the cabinet. After lesson when he was supposed to be studying, he even snuck out at night. He finally started making progress. He might be able to test it on something inanimate now. He sent an owl to Borgin before breakfast one day telling him his plan. He sat across from Goyle, who was stuffing himself with sausages.

"….and so I told _her _that she ought not talk about people who knew her ex-boyfriends best friend because my boyfriend says…_Draco_, aren't you listening to me?!"

"Oh, yeah.." Draco had been completely tuning Pansy out until now.

"Well, then, what should I tell her?"

"I don't care." And with that he grabbed a shiny green apple out of the fruit bowl in the middle of the table, picked up his books and left, leaving Pansy dumbfounded.

Draco turned the silver handle of the cabinet and set the apple inside and shut the door. He took out his wand, pointed it at the cabinet door, and closed his eyes. He focused very hard.

"_Harmonium Nictere Passus," _he whispered. There was a sound. Like a twig snapping, or ice cracking. He slowly turned the handle. The apple was gone. Joy flooded him. But, wait, could it make the journey back?

_"Harmonium Nictere Passus,"_ he whispered. Nothing happened.

_"Harmonium Nictere Passus," _he said again, this time with a big more force. The sound came again. He opened the cabinet. Inside lay the apple, bright and green as ever. But with a big bite out of it. Draco picked it up. He could see where the teeth marks a grazed it and dove in. It had worked. Draco simply stood there looking at it in concentration when something happened. Someone had entered the Room of Hidden things. He swung around. A young girl of maybe fourteen or fifteen stood there, paralyzed, clutching a picture frame. She had pale skin and wavy red hair.

"Out!" Draco screamed at the girl-trowing the apple at her, "Get out now!" Rage filled him. The girl fled, dropping the picture. He walked slowly over to were she had been. He thought he had told the room not to let anyone in? But if someone else needed to use it, what if there was a loophole? He bent down and picked up the photograph. It was a family. A smiling father with dark auburn hair, a pale mother with blonde curls. There were two sisters. The redheaded girl and someone he recognized. A fellow Slytherin maybe? They all looked happy, the figures waved at him. He dropped the picture, shattering the glass. All he could think of was the horror he saw when he caught the glimpse of the pale girl's face.


	5. Conscience

**Thanks again to anyone who reviewed, favorited, or is following this fic. You're great. ****Thanks again, Kit Kat**

The Come-and-Go Room was always quiet, even the pair of birds in a large cage seated in a mahogany armchair. One was black, the other white. They seldom chirped, but when they did it was a sound Draco enjoyed much more than any other.

Today nothing seemed to bring Draco joy. He was getting desperate, nothing seemed to work. Inanimate objects were one thing, living beings another. Draco could seem to be able to get anything with a life through the magic passage between the two cabinets, much less anything with a soul.

He needed a Plan B. He knew Borgin would be upset if he suddenly cancelled on the cabinet idea. He had even already discussed his plot with Aunt Bellatrix, who seemed ecstatic. He, naturally, didn't say a word about it to his mother.

His mother was still afraid, she thought he had no plan. She cried for fear of losing her little boy. She had always been afraid of losing him and Lucius. Now Lucius was gone and he was all she had left now.

She had always been worried when Lucius had taken him along with him to 'work' or Death Eater meetings. Draco still remembered their conversation before the first time his father took him to Borgin and Burkes.

_"You can't take him there! The thugs and thieves, all the dangerous objects. He could get hurt! Lucius, please.."_

_ "Narcissa! Stop babying the boy. He can handle himself, he's elven years old…" "Only eleven!"_

_ "It's about time he saw some of the nastier places. Besides, he needs to know how to bargain."_

_ "You're bargaining his safety…"_

_ "Enough, Narcissa!"_

Sure enough, Draco had accompanied his father to Borgin and Burkes that day. The day he had gotten his Hand of Glory. The shop hadn't changed much since then. Then dust still coated the old shelves with the bottles of poison sitting on them. The shrunken heads and silver necklace were still there.

The necklace…something about it intrigued Draco. Like a puzzle piece he had been missing. Suddenly an idea began to swirl about his mind. Fragments of possibilities linked together. _That would never work…_he thought sharply to himself. But maybe it would?

Draco walked slowly into the Three Broomsticks. He wasn't eager to enter, despite the bitter cold wind that struck him like a whip outside. The little bell above the door tinkled as he came in. No one noticed him enter, the place was packed. Teenagers enjoyed their Hogsmeade weekend sat in booths drinking Butterbeer and Pumpkin Juice. They laughed and joked and seemed to be having a generally good time.

Draco wished he could feel their joy, that he could go and join them. He ached to drink warm butterbeer and have a laugh with Crabbe and Goyle and Zabini. But even his old friends ignored him now. Most likely because he had been ignored _them_. He spent so much time wrapped up in his thoughts, focusing on that cabinet, that his friends faded from his mind until they were simply people who bothered him while he was thinking and insulted him when possible. It wasn't even the good-natured teasing of before. They were harsh, cold, and critical. They were giving him a taste of his own medicine.

Draco walked over to the counter where the young bar mistress, Madam Rosmerta was working.

"Madam," he said, trying to keep calm, "I believe there is some despicable characters behind your place in a drunken brawl. Would you wish me to alert the authorities or…"

"Oh, no" said the woman, dropping the glass she had been holding, "I have to deal with this type of ridiculousness all the time, I'm sick of it…" She stomped out the back door brandishing her wand and muttering things like, "Stupid hoodlums"

"Why…" she began as she stepped outside in the snow, "There's no one out here…"

"_Stupify!"_

Thewoman was knocked to the ground, breathing hard. Her wand had flown out of her hand only to be scooped up by Draco.

"What…?"

Raising his own wand slowly, Draco pointed it at her forehead. _Focus…_he reminded himself. Very slowly, and even more quietly he said,

"_Imperious."_

Her eyes went blank. She looked dazed for a moment, and then sat up in the snow, gazing at him curiously.

"I am going to leave via Floo Powder," he said, emphasizing each word and making sure to give exact instructions, "when I return I will give you a package. The next Hogsmeade weekend you are to pass it off to a Hogwarts student, using the Imperious Curse, tell them to deliver it to Professor Dumbledore. All of this must be down in secret. Do you understand?"

Madam Rosemerta stood up, nodded once, and walked into her shop. She then resumed filling drink order and chatting with customers. _It worked, _he thought, a bit surprised. He walked into the shop, too, shutting the door behind him. He slipped into the back room. Inside were bottles and bottles of firewhisky, gillywater, butterbeer, and pumpkin juice. I smelled old and bit spicy. A large fireplace warmed the small storage room. Draclo grabbed some Floo Powder off the mantelpiece. He through it into the fire (which turned green), and stepping inside, said,

"_Borgin and Burkes."_

The fire burned even brighter, and whisked him away. He spun into darkness and then was suddenly standing in the fireplace or Borgin and Burkes. Borgin dropped the bottle of sickly orange potion he had been holding, which splattered everywhere.

"M..Ma…Master Malfoy! I wasn't expecting you…"

"But, nevertheless, I am here," Draco brushed the soot off his solid black suit. "I've come to check up on you, personally," he lied.

"Of…of, course."

Draco pretended to gaze around the shop, finally settling his gaze on what he had really come for.

"How much for the necklace, Borgin?"

"One and a half thousand Galleons," Borgin said, suddenly sure of himself.

"I'll take it."

Borgin seemed very taken aback. After all, who buys a one thousand, five hundred Galleon item on a seemingly mere whim?

"You understand," said Borgin, now smiling, "that it's cursed. You can't hang it on your girlfriends neck, unless of course you wanted to kill her." Draco relished the idea for a few moments and then retorted,

"I think I am aware of that, unless you presume I missed the _Caution: Do Not Touch_ sign."

"Of course, naturally…"

"You may send the bill to Malfoy Manor."

"No, you can pay for it now or you can take it when I get my money," the grimy old man said, stern.

"Perhaps, you are insinuating that I do not have enough money to pay for the item, or that the noble house of Malfoy is dishonest enough to not pay our dues."

"Of course not," Borgin said, ver nervous now, "I only meant to…"

"But, for good faith…" Draco pulled a large fistful of large gold coins out of his pocket and set them on the counter, making plinking sounds. Borgin eyes turned wide as saucers.

"An advance," he explained. Borgin picked up the necklace in gloved hand, wrapping it in a black cloth.

The necklace was truly beautiful. It was gleaming silver with large, ornate opals. Draco yearned to run his finger along the gorgeous craftsmanship, but knowing the second he did he would be lost in the darkness of death.

Draco left the shop feeling satisfied and yet scared. He passed it off to Rosmerta, her never questioning a thing.

Even though Plan B had not yet had a chance to fail, Draco found himself still spending time in the Room of Requirement. He still made attempts to work on the cabinet, which was barely yielding.

One day he was walking the corridors alone when he decided to pay it a visit. He opened the door of the room of Requirement slowly, closing his eyes. He could hear the birds chirping in their cage. He entered and closed the door behind him. When he turned to face the room, a shocking sight met his eyes. On an old stone bench by the cabinet a girl was rated. It was the same girl from before. Her red hair fell over her shoulders and covered her face, but he could hear her sobbing quietly. She was clutching the picture frame. She hadn't taken the time to mend it, it was still shattered. He wondered why. Apparently, she hadn't heard him enter. Every inch of his soul told him to leave now, to let her cry in lonely peace. But he found himself walking towards her. She looked up at him in fear. Her pale face were streaked in tears. She stood up and started to leave, afraid he would scream at her again.

"No, wait," he pleaded. She froze, and then as if under a spell, she went a sat back down on the bench. He sat down beside her.

"Why are you crying?" he asked her. _Why do I care_? he asked himself.

The girl was still silent, staring at him with wondering chocolate brown eyes.

"Why are you here?" he asked. He was remembering the last time he had seen her, when he had thrown the apple at her. He remembered the look of absolute fear that had distorted her face. He had scared her and now, to his disgust, he was trying to atone for it. The girl didn't speak a word to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, shocked at himself, "I'd frightened you." She did nothing, only stared at her picture. He was starting to wonder if she was mute.

They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours. Then out of nowhere,

"My family."

Draco put on his 'listening face'. He nodded for her to go on.

"My mum's…" she began softly, he knew whatever it was it was very hard for her to say, "not a witch."

"She isn't?"

"She's a muggle."

"Oh," Draco was surprised. So she was half-blood, that wasn't anything to cry about though. Well, then again, if Draco wasn't pureblood he might feel like crying.

"My sister, Daphne, she's all ashamed of her. Like being half-blood is evil or something. She keeps trying to tell everybody we're pureblood. She won't talk about mum, won't even answer her letters. She _hates_ her." The girl started crying again.

"Daphne Greengrass?" Draco asked incredulously. He used to think the Greengrass's were pureblood, too. This was good information…

"Yep," said the girl, "My name is Astoria."

"She wouldn't even let you keep the picture, would she?"

"No, Daph' told me to get rid of it. She hates being reminded she's not perfect, not _pureblooded_. But why do you care? You're Draco Malfoy, another one of those pig-headed blood purists. Why am I even…"

"I have no idea," he said with a snicker. He took the girl's hand. _What in the world am I doing? _he wondered.

"So why are you here?" she asked.

"That," he replied, "Is none of your business." And with that he left, shutting the door behind him.

Draco found himself thinking about Astoria more and more often. She was so fragile, so innocent. Guilt that he had frightened her was still tearing him apart. Normal he didn't feel guilt, normally he could compartmentalize his life until that didn't matter anymore.

Draco purposely failed to do his Transfiguration homework twice in a row, and was promptly giving detention by Professor McGonagall. That way he had an alibi when the parcel was delivered to Dumbledore. But something had gone horribly wrong. Necklace had cursed Katie Bell, of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. She had been taken to St. Mungo's, thankfully she had not had enough contact with it to die. That still did not help Draco's conscience.


	6. Why

Draco saw Katie before they took her to St. Mungo's. She was suspended in the air on a magic stretcher, her eyes empty and hopeless. Draco had been several feet away, along with a crowd of students that had come to see her being taken away. Even from that distance he knew she was not far from death, that her breathing was coming shallow and her heartbeat was strained. He knew because he had caused it. And yet no one suspected him. That was a good thing, of course. But some tiny insane part of him wanted to scream out from the crowd, "It was me! It's all my fault." Because it was, and the guilt was tearing him apart.

He silenced this tiny part of him with the thought of his father, rotting away in Azkaban. Being tortured by Dementors, screaming in pain. Surely, his father's sanity was worth more than this girls life? Draco knew the only way of rescuing and redeeming his father was by the Dark Lord's reign. Which all began with the death of Albus Dumbledore.

Death, why did everything seemed to revolve around death? Even the Dark Lord feared Death. It only destroyed, and it had long left Draco's life in pieces.

But the only way to safe a life was by killing Dumbledore, he thought. To save his father, and himself, he had to accomplish the impossible task set ahead of him. So far he was failing.

How could he have been so stupid? To let an Imperioused person like Rosmerta handle _his_ assignment. He should've known the necklace would've fallen into the wrong hands, that he would have had one more thing on his conscience.

There was really only one more thing to do now, and that was go back to fixing the cabinet. He continued to spend hours in the Room of Hidden Things, he devoted every minute of his time to it. He spent hours in the library looking for spells and enchantment to help him. He was neglecting his homework now, but not on purpose anymore. His teachers were puzzled to why he spent so much time pouring over books but never carried better than an Acceptable. And that was rare, even in his old favorite subject. He used to be an O student. Letters from his mother came in, wondering about his grades, his wellbeing, mostly his grades…she couldn't really say anything outright about his mission because the mail was being searched. Draco felt this an invasion of privacy, and took it up with Professor Snape. Snape blandly told him there was nothing he could do and walked away, his billowing black robes behind him.

Draco felt the stress way upon his shoulders, he know longer walked with his nose in the air like he used to, but with his head cast downward to avoid attention. Pansy had noticed his change in attitude,

"Why don't you have _fun_ anymore, Draco," she whined, "Come to Hogsmeade with us! We'll have a Butterbeer and…"

"I don't _want_ to, Pansy."

"Christmas is coming soon."

"_And?_ I doubt _Christmas_ is really going to make my life a piece of cake."

"Christmas cheers _everybody_ up, silly. Besides, Slughorn's having a Christmas party soon…"

"I'm not going to ask you, Pansy. I've told you, I don't belong to that stupid Slug Club and I don't want to."

"Sounds like a case of sour grapes to me."

"Well, it's not."

"Fine," she snapped, "Blaise asked me to go with him, do you care?"

"If you go with him? Not at all. Go have fun with that big-headed loser."

"Well, Draco Malfoy, _you're_ the one acting like a loser to me." And with that she left him.

Draco continued to work at his cabinet. He told the room to not let anyone else in. But in the back of his bind he always added, "Except Astoria."

He wanted to see her again. Sometimes he caught glimpses of her, with her sister and her friends, or by herself in the library, studying. He liked to watch her. How she smiled, how life wasn't quite so serious to her. Sometimes she looked sad, and he knew she had been thinking about her mother again, or fighting with her sister. He wanted to comfort her, but he left her alone. He didn't have the right words.

One day his wish came true. He was in the Room when he heard the door handle turn. He was alarmed at first, but when he saw her face he relaxed.

"No, wait," he asked her, as she turned to flee, she always seemed so afraid of him. Was he truly the monster she saw him as? She walked forward slowly.

"What is it," she asked very cautiously, her eyes seemed to bore through him.

"I…," he began, "I want some company." He couldn't believe his own words. Draco Malfoy loved solitude, he enjoyed not having to deal with other people. And he was asking for company?

"Alright…" she said, walking over and sitting on the familiar bench.

"I been having a bad day," he told her, that was an understatement. He was having a bad _life_.

"What's wrong?" she asked. She was so quiet, so strange. He wondered if she really care or if she was only asking out of politeness. He tried to fake a smile. What really came across was a grimace.

"I've done some things I'm not proud of," he admitted.

"Oh," she said, not pressing for details. Her lang hair fell over her shoulders. She stared at her feet, obviously uncomfortable. He didn't like that, but he didn't know what to do. She broke the silence,

"What do you do in here?" He was a bit taken aback by this question.

"Oh, I'm trying to fix something that's broken." She looked him in the eyes for the first time, although she seemed ashamed to trust him.

"Your soul?" she asked. Draco smiled for real this time, she thought he was being metaphorical. True, his soul probably needed more work than the cabinet did.

"No."

"What then?"

"I can't say." He wished he could, but that might lead to awkward questions.

"Do you come here often?" she asked. He paused before answering.

"Yes," for once Draco was telling the truth, "Do you?"

"Yes," Astoria answered, she seemed ashamed to admit it, although she explained why, "It seems as if I'm always in here. I think about mum and Daph. Sometimes I just sit and think about nothing at all. Sometimes I listen to the old record player, but the records are all scratchy. Mostly I just sit in silence, and listen to the birds. And sometimes…" she stopped. She bit her lower lip, she appeared to think she'd said too much.

"Go on," he asked. She didn't she simply sat there, and quit making eye contact with him. Then, she took a deep breath,

" Sometimes I cry." She seemed to shudder as she said it, as if the wrath of fellow Slytherins was just waiting to tear her to pieces. She seemed _very_ ashamed. She should, being a Slytherin. Slytherins didn't cry, unless to manipulate someone else. It was as sign of weakness. Slytherins typically didn't accept the weak. No wonder Astoria didn't seem to fit in.

"_Why? Why am I telling you this! You don't need to know!" _she shouted all of a sudden, quite upset with herself. The birds fluttered at the unexpected noise.

"I don't care," he told her, "I really, really, don't care. I don't care if you cry, I don't care if you bawl your eyes out. As long as your not bawling all over me," he added sarcastically. She calmed down and smiled. And with that she stood up and left, with one last look over her shoulder.

All Pansy could talk about was the Christmas party. She gushed about it for days on end. _Even though she's not going with me,_ he thought grumpily.

"But you don't understand!," she said, while they were sitting in the library together, "We're going as _friends_. And Blaise talked Slughorn into letting Nott come, and he's bringing Daphne. So, you see, we're going as a _group_."

"I don't care," Draco said, pretending to be engrossed in _Advanced Potion Making_. Didn't he just say that to another girl…

It seemed to take Pansy a moment to thing of something else to say to capture his attention. Finally, she had something,

"Did you know that idiot Belby asked Daphne to the party?"

"Really," he said uninterested.

"Of course, she declined. She _is _my best friend after all. And you know what he did after that?"

"No idea."

"He went and asked _Astoria._"

"What!" Draco whispered loudly, trying to evade the wrath of Madam Pince. She still shushed him, "Did she says yes?"

"Who _cares_, the point is he's such desperate loser…" And she continued to babble on about Belby, but Draco had quit listening, not that he had been in the first place. Not until it involved Astoria. Pansy was right, why _did _he care? Why did he feel the jealousy muddle his vision and turn him in a monster. He gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. Pansy had always hated Belby, and now he did, too. Why?

"I've got to go," Draco said to Pansy quickly, and left her stilll ranting about how much of a 'desperate loser' Belby was.

Draco continued to see Astoria around Hogwarts. The more he thought about her, the more she appeared to show up in the hallways and study rooms. Sometimes she was alone, other times she had friends with her. He noticed a big difference in Astoria when she was with her friends and when she was alone. When she was with her friends she was much more animated, she giggled and teased along with the rest of them. But she was much more interesting when she was alone. Draco saw her sitting under a certain tree by the Black Lake, usually reading a book. The big difference was when Astoria was alone she would sing. Even if it was just humming.

Draco knew it wasn't right to spend so much time thinking about one person, especially when his own life was on the line. What if he didn't kill Dumbledore in time? Voldemort would surely kill him. And if he succeeded? He would be honored above all others. Either way, the Dark Lord would have control over all of the Wizarding World.

And where would Astoria be? He wondered, when the Dark Lord had completely taken over and the war of the worlds ensued? Prehaps she would be under the prtection of the Death Eaters, being part of an old wizarding family. Or maybe she would be killed along with ll the others, for her father's great sin of marrying a muggle. And why should it matter to him? When he reigned at the Dark Lord's side what would one pathetic little girl matter?

Despite all he had done to belittle his own thoughts, Draco found himself purposely walking by the tree by the lake one day. He had just spent two hours in the Room of Requirement, and he figured he needed a break.

There she was, with her head reclined against the tree. The sun was out from behind the clouds that day, and it sparkled along the lake nearly blinding you if you stood at the right angle. The wind blow and the leaves stirred.

"_I listen to wind and I think I hear your voice,"_

"_I think I've lost my mind, I'm in love,"_

"_But did I ever have choice?"_

"_Did you slip something in my drink?"_

"_Because now I can't think,"_

"_Without thinking about you."_

"_Am I intoxicated with just you?"_

"_Or did you give Love Potion?"_

"_I think I'm drowning in my own tears."_

"_I think I'm affirming my own fears."_

"_I fell for you…or did you trip me?"_

"_One little sip and now I'm slipping."_

"_Love Potion." _

Astoria quit singing suddenly. She whipped around as if she had thought she'd heard a noise. But Draco was long gone. She discounted her worry, telling herself it was probably a bird or a tree nymph and resuming reading.

Draco was back in the Come-and-Go Room. Even as he ran his hand down the side of the dark cabinet, even as he listened to the birds whistle softly in their cage, all he could think about was Astoria's voice singing softly and ruining any lack of guilt he had left. True he hadn't spiked her pumpkin juice with love potion, but he wasn't innocent of much else. He had cursed an innocent girl. His mind flashed back to Katie Bell, limp and nearly lifeless. So close to death. And he was going to murder another. Murder, that was the first time Draco had thought of it that way. And Astoria thought she had problems. It was then and there Draco decided he didn't care anymore. He only needed to look out for three people, and Astoria wasn't one of them. She was pathetic and alone, and he didn't need, much less want her. He wanted his father's approval, his mother's love. He wanted to look into the horrifying eyes of the Dark Lord and say, "It is done." Nothing would distract him now. He would send a green bolt through the old man's chest and send the Dark Mark into the air above the castle, for every eye to see. And maybe, in all his glory, Astoria could forgive him.


	7. Shadows

**Thanks again to all you wonderful reviewers. And for anyone who's curious, yes I wrote all the lyrics to the chapter and the previous one myself. Sorry this one's so short. Hope you like it. -Kit Kat**

Draco walking quickly and purposefully down the dark, deserted corridor. It was nearly pitch black except the bits of moonlight that shone through the thick castle windows. He avoided them and fell into the shadows. Draco was putting everything he had into fixing the cabinet now. He barely ate, using his lunch breaks to work. Even when he didn't skip a meal, he was never hungry. The fear of failure, or his own impending death should he not succeed, had ruined any appetite he may have had. He had now resorted to working at night. The consequences of him being caught would be disastrous, but he doubted that would happen. It seemed Snape had been watching out for him lately. No doubt he was asked to do so by his mother, who had no faith in him.

Lack of sleep combined with little food consumption had left Draco weak a tired. If he hadn't been walking in the dark you would've been able to see the slight grey tinge to his skin; the dark circles under his eyes. But it was less food and sleep that caused the permanently haunted look in his eyes. His usually taunting boast had turned to quiet malice. Draco looked and felt beat. As if death had already come to meet him and was ringing his doorbell. And he was using every last bit of energy he had left to make sure he never answered.

Sliding along the walls of the castle; Draco finally reached the entranced to the Room. He reached out his hand and began to wish for where he wanted to go when,

"So what do we have here?" asked a rasping voice from the darkness. Out of nowhere, a tabby cat with evil red eyes and matted fur came and circled Draco, who was frozen to the spot where he stood.

Filch reached an old, wrinkled hand out and grabbed Draco by the ear.

"Owww! Let go of me you filthy old…"

"Lurking around past curfew, eh? You're in trouble, you are! Oh, the punishments I have planned for you…" Draco suddenly remembered a piece of information that could very well save him.

"I'm not breaking any rules. I'm on my way to a party, Slughorn's Christmas party. I was late on setting out and, er, got lost…"

Maybe he would fall for it? Why hadn't he remembered earlier? Perhaps what he had told Pansy was true, he really didn't care.

"Oh, really? Well we'll just see about that." And with that Filch drug him all the way to Slughorn's party, muttering things about 'horrible children' and 'severe punishments'. Draco kept wiggling, trying to get loose of Filch's iron grip. He was strongly reminded of his mother.

When they finally got there Draco was astonished at the grandeur. The entire place was draped with big curtains, it looking like an expensive stuffy tent. Waiters in white tuxedos served drinks and a band was playing soft rock. He would have been impressed if he didn't feel so claustrophobic, and if he hadn't just been caught sneaking around by the crabby caretaker.

"Professor Slughorn," the old man wheezed, "I discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party and to have been delayed in setting out. Did you issue him an invitation?"

Draco's plan was falling apart at the seems, not that he really ever had one. And he had to think one up quickly.

"Alright I wasn't invited. I was trying to gate-crash, happy?"

"No I'm not…!" Filch began, and Draco pretty much tuned him out after that.

"That's alright Argus that's alright," Slughorn said after Filch had finished his spew, "It's Christmas, and it's not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once, we'll forget any punishment; you may stay Draco."

Filch was, naturally, furious. Draco I immediately thanking Slughorn, flattering him in every which way. He was happy to be out of trouble, but upset he couldn't see a way to sneak out and work in the Room. He surveyed the room. Pansy was standing in a corner sipping punch looking a bit bored in a ostentatious purple dress. Draco had to hold back a chuckle when he saw Longbottom in a white tux serving drinks. _Exactly where he belongs, _he thought with relish. Just then, he noticed Snape standing nearby. Of course, Snape would've been at the party. That's why he hadn't kept Filch at bay for him.

"I'd like a word with you, Draco," he asked. Leading him out of the party and into the hall, Draco followed him to the last classroom down. They entered, Snape flicking his wand behind him, magically locking the door with a 'click'.

Snape told him, in a hushed but harsh voice, about how foolish he was being. That he was going to get caught. That he was going to try to help him.

Draco knew the truth, he knew that Snape was only trying to steal his glory. Once again the old Malfoy pride consumed him. He argued back and forth, each watching the old alliance deteriorate. Snape was spitting some nonsense about an unbreakable vow.

"You're speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but-" Draco never let Snape finish what he was going to say. He unlocked the door, slammed it open, and strode out. He walked down the hall, past Slughorn's office door, and turned the corner. He was going to go down the dark hallway and back to the Slytherin common room when he heard something. It was a laugh, light and airy. Like a bird. Draco turned on instinct and went to look in the doorway of the party. Astoria stood, leaning on a pillar, by herself. She seemed to have been laughing at something Belby said. He saw now that her expression was forced and that she hadn't really thought it was all that hilarious, whatever it was Belby had said. Saved by Professor Slughorn, who ushered Belby away to introduce him to some vampire, Astoria continued to stand there alone. Draco realized he was getting sucked in again, and turned to leave, when Blaise found him.

"Glad you could join us, mate," Blaise said in an uncharacteristically happy tone. He put his arm around Draco and forced him into the party.

"Pansy and I are having a swell time…" Draco looked over to Pansy, who was bored-looking as ever.

"Okay," Blaise said, "I'm having a swell time. Pansy's a bit, well, she's being herself." And with that Draco's friend skedaddled off to dance with one of the Carrow girls.

Draco spent the next ten minutes or so making small talk with unimportant people. He stood by himself. A waiter offered him a drink. He ignored him. The music changed to a slower tune, a more of a soft rock. The young Malfoy perked up. He thought he recognized the song, or the tune at least.

_"Teardrops keep dropping on my hand,"_

_"covering my heart."_

_"Keeping it far apart from you."_

_"Because every time I see your face,"_

_"My fragile heart starts to race,"_

_"I want to so badly,"_

_"but I will forever rue the day,"_

_"I let myself love you."_

Oh, no. It was Astoria's song. The one she had been singing by the lake, he knew it looked over to where she was standing, all by herself. She was smiling now with her eyes closed, listening to the lyrics. She was wearing a red dress that clashed with her hair. For a moment, Draco smiled, too. Then he took a chance.

Gliding quickly across the packed room, he reached. Her eyes just opened as he approached. He held out his arm for her, like a proper gentleman. Her mouth formed a shocked little 'o'. Then, regaining her composer, she took his arm and he guided her onto the dance floor. He put his hand on her waist and took hers in his other, and they waltzed.

"You look stunning tonight," he whispered in her ear. She look up at him and blushed, then looked back down at her feet. Draco could she Pansy looking shocked and hurt out of the corner of his eye. Daphne, who was trying to console her, also looked shocked, if not jealous. Draco didn't really care.

"You're a fantastic dancer," Astoria complimented him. If she only knew about the God awful formal dance lessons his mother made him take.

"Why, thank you," he replied, looking down at her. He tried to smile, but it most likely came off as a smirk.

They danced slowly, and Astoria hummed along to the song.

"_-and if the world came crashing down,_

_I doubt I would hear a sound."_

"_Because as long as your near, _

_my tears will drown out any fear."_

"_Love Potion."_

_I sounds better when she sings it, _Draco thought to himself smugly.

"People are staring," she whispered to him. True, it was unusual. And since nearly everyone had known Pansy and him were together, it was a big smack in the face to her. He was pretty much wordlessly breaking up with her. What shocked Draco the most is that Astoria went along with it.

"_-I think I'm drowning in my own tears,_

"_I think I'm affirming my own fears-"_

"Let them," he muttered. Professor Slughorn was smiling, and Harry Potter and that Granger girl stood watching with distaste. Blaise was dancing badly with Flora Carrow and not paying them any mind.

"_-one little sip and now I'm slipping,"_

"_Love Potion."_

And with that the song ended, Celestina Warbeck drawing out the last note high and emotion-filled. Draco let go of Astoria's hand slowly, and then left her on the dance floor, whispering in her ear before he left,

"Thank you for the dance."

Draco returned home for Christmas break. His mother, naturally, wanted to know every unnecessary detail of his school life. He lied easily. He was still angry about her asking Snape to follow him around. She looked astounded when he told her him and Pansy were no more, but neglected to inform her about Astoria. He didn't even know who he was to her, much less who she was him.

But did he imagine the admiration in her eyes as he left the party that night? The way she blushed when he called her beautiful? What was he doing? He was leading her astray. Causing someone so innocence to care about someone so lost, so far gone as him was surely a sin. He knew she would detest him when she found out he was going to kill the headmaster. When she found out? What was he thinking, she would find out when everyone else did. When he shot a poison green bolt through the old man's heart. Besides, she could be harmed. She could get in the way and be killed. Then again, what did he mind? He was the epitome of selfishness. He would keep her near him, not caring if she was harmed in the process. He knew it was wrong, he also knew murder was wrong. That wasn't going to stop him was it? Never before had Draco had to chase a girl. They usually flung themselves at him.

Draco, who was previously sitting on his bed doing his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework, got up and walked into his mother's room. She was away visiting Aunt Bellatrix at the time. He looked in a little silver box under her bed. Inside was a necklace, a single emerald on a thin silver chain.

When Draco father had first been sent to Azkaban, the other Death Eaters had given her this as a sort of sick condolence. Narcissa had screamed in rage and then pouted for days, claiming she didn't want it. But she kept it under her bed, waiting for her Lucius to come back so she could shove it in his face. But she wouldn't care if it disappeared now.

Draco slipped it into a small envelope along with a note that simply read,

_Merry Christmas. _

_Yours,_

_DM_


	8. Silence

**Hello, everybody. Sorry this chapter took so long and that it's so short. No, **_**Lost in Love i**_**s not a real song nor is Colton Pharbeck-Sinistra a real person. I made that up off the top of my head. I really hope you enjoy it, and if I could improve anywhere don't be afraid to review. And tell me what you like, so I can write like that more often. And if you have any requests, for this story or for a different one, speak up! And thank you, so much, to everybody who has reviewed, followed, or fav'd this. You're the bomb.**

**Kit Kat**

Draco sat silently as the towering pine trees disappeared into the distance, row by row. He reclined in the compartment with Crabbe and Goyle, who were bickering back and forth about things Draco really wasn't paying attention to.

Pansy hadn't joined them. Draco had received a series of angry letters from her over the holidays. She was "Breaking up with him" although she "still loved him very much" but she "had to take herself out of this, frankly, awkward picture". Some of her words had sounded like whining, other he could tell she was truly hurt. Mostly, though, her words stung. They ran off the page like little daggers. The most prominent and reappearing phrase? "You never really loved me"

Draco didn't think he would miss Pansy, but part of those words got through. Part of him knew he had hurt her, that she was truly in what she called "emotional turmoil". But he told that part of him to shut up and get a life.

Zabini wasn't present, either. He was probably sitting with Pansy. Zabini had seemed protective of her lately. Maybe Pansy could direct some of that unnecessary drama towards Blaise. The blithering idiot didn't know what he was getting himself into.

But Draco Malfoy had much, much bigger problems than that. In fact, he was highly ashamed he had even spent that much time thinking about her. He was only a few months away from his deadline and he was nowhere close to killing Albus Dumbledore.

Once Draco was back to school he practically lived in the Room of Hidden Things. He started trying old spells. Things you didn't read on ordinary school books. Dark spells. He patched the cabinet in cold magic and whispered incantations. He needed to try it on something alive, but a person was too dangerous.

Draco sat on the stone bench by the cabinet one day, thinking. He clenched his pale fists in desperation, his wand in one hand. His anxiety caused small beads of sweat to form on his brow. He almost wanted to do it himself, to try the cabinet. But he one wit wasn't ready. He might be stunk in limbo like Montague, or dismembered. He could die.

He sat in near silence, the old record player made a minuscule creaking noise. Then one of the birds whistled. Draco looked up from his concentration. He stood, an then slowly moved across the room. Opening the black metal cage, he reached in and grabbed the white birds. It didn't fight, it just nestled into his hand. He gripped it slightly, so it wouldn't fly away. He had a feeling it wouldn't if it could. He opened the door of the cabinet and set the bird inside. It started chirping, sounding worried. Which, he thought, was nonsense. Because birds didn't understand fear. Not true fear. Not like he did.

He had said the spell so many times, it came easily now. Still, his nervousness made it harder to pay attention to what he was doing.

_"Harmonium Nictere Passus."_

A snap, then silence. The bird wasn't chirping anymore. Or maybe the bird was gone…

Draco opened the door slowly. Emptiness. Black and polished emptiness occupied the cabinet. He almost wanted to sing for joy. But he also almost wanted to faint where he stood. Slowly, firmly he whispered,

_"Harmonium Nictere Passus."_

Another cracking sound. He gripped the ornate handle tightly and swiftly pulled the door opened.

There was no chirping. No little black bird eyes peering up at him. But the bird was there. The bird was dead. Perfectly white, the tiny bird lie there. Draco felt a tremble shake his whole body. It was dead. It would never sing for him or Astoria again.

Did the journey back kill it? Surely, he didn't expect it to work. On the other hand…

Did Borgin hear it's soft chirp in the store? Did he kill it? As a message that Draco had succeeded? Like the bite out of the apple.

That idea disgusted Draco more than any other. That anyone would kill, even harm, something so innocent.

He had done it. It was all his fault. _It's only a pathetic little bird…_ he tried telling himself, but to no avail. And this wasn't the end. He was set on the path to kill something much more important, someone. Albus Dumbledore. He was weak, and that wasn't to be tolerated But did he really care? Yes, he did. Too much.

He continued to spend time in the Room. But he spent less working on the cabinet. Sometimes he just sat, or walked around. The room was huge. He could travel far into it and still not see that back. Old cushions and decorated jars were stacked along the walls. There was a dusty old black piano near the door. He sat done and ran his fingers along the keys. It was still in tune.

The exact moment he pressed one of the keys the door to the Room opened. Draco didn't even jump. It was Astoria. He had left the loophole open for her again.

She slid into the room, smiling.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here again," she said. Draco didn't even look up, he only nodded.

"Can you play?" she asked softly. He looked her in the eyes.

"Of course."

She came and sat on the dusty piano, swinging her feet back in forth. He noticed she was wearing the necklace. He commented on that.

"Oh, yeah…" she blushed and looked at her feet. He started playing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" very slowly.

"How's you're sister," he inquired solemnly.

"Fine," she answered, "a bit jealous, but fine."

"Jealous?" He didn't have to raise his voice to be heard over the piano.

"Well, I danced with the most admired boy in Slytherin, and she had to go with _Nott._" She let out an almost-laugh. Draco sneered.

"Nott's lucky, I hear _Eloise Midgen_ turned him down."

"No! But she's in Gryffindor!"

"Exactly." It was so strange, talking to Astoria came easily. Normally people, all people, irked Draco. He hated meaningless chitchat.

They both said nothing after that, and Draco quit playing.

"Play me something else," she asked, "anything."

"For you, " he said, smiling. The song started slow and a bit eerie. He built up to a faster-paced melody pressing the keys rapidly with skill and ease. Draco couldn't see, his eyes were fixated on the keys, but Astoria was captivated. Draco was lost in his own world when he played, he nearly forgot she was there. Until she started singing.

_"I thought the blood rushing to my head was real,"_

_"It's not,"  
_

_"Your words are like poisons to my thoughts,"  
_

_"But show me your heart unguarded,"  
_

_"and don't try to take it back,"  
_

_"and I might release,"  
_

_"what little love I have left."  
_

They sat there together, him playing and her singing. It seemed like an eternity. A simple, gorgeous eternity. There was no death or sadness to haunt Draco there. He didn't ever want to leave. Eventually his son ended, and Astoria's sweet voice ceased singing.

"Draco…" she said, "where's Snow?"

"Snow?" He didn't know what she was talking about.

"Snow. The bird. I named them both, Snow and Midnight. He used to sing for me, you know, both of them do. Do you know what happened to him?" Oh.

_Lie!_ Draco mind ordered him. And he obeyed.

"I have no idea." He could tell from the sadness in her eyes she knew he was lying. Funny, he thought he was a convincing liar.

"What do you do in here, Draco? Will you ever tell me?"

"No," he said sharply. There was again an awkward silence.

"You have a lovely voice," he told her.

"Thank you. You're piano skills are brilliant. Draco, I have something to ask you."

Another question? This was beginning to real like an interrogation.

"Yes?"

"How did you know to ask me on that song? That was my favorite song. I was just standing there, listening. And then there you were…" she trailed off into the already known.

"I have my ways."

"Is there anything you're going to tell me, Draco Malfoy?"

"No, not really."

"Well, then." And she refused to say anything for the next minute and a half.

"What did you mean, that _was_ your favorite song?"

"Oh," she said, caught off guard. Breaking her 'silent treatment' she answered, "I was hoping you'd catch that. Yes, it used to be my favorite song."

"You have a new one?"

"Yes, the one you just played. Who's it by?"

"It's called _Lost in Love _by Colton Pharbeck-Sinistra."

"Like our Astrology teacher?" she chuckled, "Does it have words?"

"No, did you make those up?"

"They're a poem wrote I long time ago."

"I see."

Astoria glanced down at her rose gold watch.

"Draco, I've really got to leave. I've got Potions in three minutes. I'm going to be late as it is." She slid off the piano and on the floor. As she walked towards the door, she looked over her shoulder and said,

"Are you ever going to tell me why you spend so much time in here?"

"No, sorry," he said, not sounding very sorry. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and walked out the door.

Draco knew under all that fake irritation she was gleeful. He could see the sparkle in her brown eyes.


	9. Alone

**Once again, for good measure, I do not own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. Don't be afraid to comment and tell me what I could do better. Hope you enjoy it,**

**Kit Kat**

Draco was starting to worry. Needless to say, things weren't going well. He had employed Crabbe and Goyle to watch over the entrance to the Room while he worked. As to not attract attention, they took turns standing in the hall while Draco was inside, disguised as young girls. Polyjuice Potion sufficed in the costume department. They were not exactly happy about this and Draco didn't blame them. He knew Astoria would avoid entering the Room if anyone else was present in the hall, but that was a sacrifice he was going to have to make. Somethings were more important than Astoria Greengrass.

Crabbe and Goyle's irritation with there situation worsened; as Draco refused to tell them what exactly he was doing in the Come-and-Go Room. He couldn't have it leak out that he planned to assassinate the headmaster of Hogwarts, and both Crabbe and Goyle had notoriously large mouths.

Harry Potter was as irking as ever. That pathetic louse never failed to show off his faux talent. Slughorn was definitely favoring him and Draco was left in the dust. As for Defense Against the Dark Arts, well, Snape was no longer his favorite teacher. He appeared to be giving Draco the cold shoulder ever since the night of the party. How immature.

Draco trudged alone across the courtyard to the Great Hall. It was his first Apparation lesson today. The sky was overcast with lavender clouds. His best pair of black shoes were getting ruined as he sloshed through the almost-melted snow. His mother was sure to get on him about that. He was halfway across the courtyard when it started raining. He ran, holding his arms over his head making a fruitless attempt to shield himself from the pouring rain. Thunder boomed behind him up in the heavens. He burst through the double doors and up the staircase to the entrance to the Great Hall. His white-blond hair was soaked and plastered to his pale forehead. A few small Hufflepuff girls giggled and pointed at him. He took about three seconds to glare menacingly at them before bursting into the Hall. Some heads turned towards him. Many people had already arrived. Draco knew he was late, which added to his dramatic entrance. He went over to stand by Crabbe and Goyle.

"'Sup," said Goyle stupidly, avoiding eye contact with Draco. Crabbe was trying to keep from laughing as Draco magically dried his drenched Hogwarts robes with the tip of his wand. Once he again looked somewhat respectable, Draco asked in a low voice,

"Crabbe, would you and Goyle mind keeping watch for me again this evening?"

"No," said Goyle bluntly, answering for Crabbe, "We're not your little watchdogs. And I hate looking like a girl."

"You look like a girl even without Polyjuice Potion," Draco spat.

"Well, it would be one thing if you told us what you were doing," Crabbe objected loudly.

"I've told you…"

"Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!" Professor McGonagall barked at him. Several heads turned in his direction. Draco felt blood rush to his cheeks. He stepped away from Crabbe. Potter and his posses smirked. Fury boiled in side him. How dare she reprimand him like that. And Potter, perfect Potter, was standing there looking so haughty. Draco hadn't even realized the lesson had started. The Heads of Houses tried to usher them into a line. Draco took the opportunity to continue his argument with Crabbe, and positioned himself at the back of the line.

"Only a little while longer."

"How much longer? We can't put up with this forever…"

"I don't know how how much longer, alright?" Crabbe opened his mouth to say something, but Draco already knew what it was,

"Look, it's none of your business what I'm doing, Crabbe, you and Goyle just do as you're told and keep a lookout!"

"I tell my friends what I'm up to, if I want them to keep a lookout for me," said a voice behind him. Draco spun around, reaching for his wand. It was Potter, grinning and waiting for Draco's reaction. He was about to blast Potter's head off when the four Heads called things to order. Draco was forced to turn around and pay attention.

The instructor, called Twycross, was going on about the letter D and the careful science of Apparation, but Draco wasn't listening. Did Potter know about his task from the Dark Lord? He should be more secretive. If anyone knew Lord Voldemort would surely kill him. Draco gulped at the idea.

He tried to Apparate into the golden hoop on the floor in front of him, but with no avail. His concentration was nonexistent.

They spent the next hour or so there, trying to Deliberately Disappear,, or whatever. Some Hufflepuff girl got splinted. Draco breathed a sigh of relief when they were finally dismissed.

As he was walking upstairs to the Room of Requirement, he was stopped on the marble staircase by Zabini.

"Malfoy," he began solemnly, "Pansy and I were wondering if you and Crabbe and Goyle would care to hang out with in the common room for awhile." It would look suspicious if he declined, Draco didn't have another class scheduled for two hours, so he agreed.

Soon they were all seated comfortably in the Slytherin common room. Zabini shared a black leather loveseat with Pansy, holding her hand. No pang of envy stuck Draco. In fact, he had never seen Zabini so content. He really was better for her, anyways.

"I just wanted to clear the air," Zabini began, "I wanted us to get along again." He was speaking to everyone, but he looked at Draco when he said it. Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy murmured in agreement. Draco only nodded.

"So…,"Zabini said awkwardly, "everybody, come on, have a Butterbeer."

Bottle caps were popped and the fire crackled. Draco sipped his drink carefully. The eerie green light from the lake illuminated the stone walls.

"I don't mind," Pansy said out of nowhere, directing her words toward Draco, "I really don't mind if you like Astoria Greengrass. Her words said on thing, but her face said another. Her grumpy expression was set in stone. Draco had a feeling Blaise had asked her to say so. He would believe it when she meant it.

They started to talk about Quidditch, and they all became more and more relaxed. They all enjoyed their Butterbeer and Crabbe said something actually funny. For the first time in awhile, Draco laughed. Genuinely laughed. He leaned back in his chair and smile. He didn't forgive Blaise yet, his actions were inexcusable. He didn't forgive Pansy, either. But that wasn't any reason he shouldn't have fun, or at least pretend to.

"Yeah, Gryffindors," Zabini began, "Just a bunch of wannabe Slytherins." They all laughed, Pansy giggle ostentatiously.

"And Hufflepuffs?" Pansy added, "Airheads, I tell you." Pansy could be a hypocrite at times.

"Hey, guys." It was Daphne, holding a stack of books, "Can I join you?" She seemed nervous.

"Of course you can," Pansy said generously, gesturing to the seat next to her, "After all, it's not _your_ fault your sister's a boyfriend snatcher." Draco nearly choked on his drink. Daphne tentatively took a seat, setting her books on the coffee table. Blaise offered her a Butterbear.

"I was not _snatched_ by anyone."

"Oh?" Pansy exclaimed.

"So you're…_not_ dating my sister?" Daphne asked, curious.

"I don't know if I'd call it that," he said elusively.

"But you're…together?" Daphne asked, definitely sounding jealous.

"If that's how you describe it," Draco answered nonchalantly. He quickly changed the subject. Everything was much less tense after that. Daphne laughed and joked with the rest of them. Draco even thought she was flirting with him at times. Her hazel eyes were green with envy. With her blonde waves and pale skin (like her sister), Daphne strongly resembled her mother. Draco found this sad and ironic. Everyone always said Draco looked like his father. His father, who was no longer so highly esteemed. Who was now wasting away in Azkaban. Thinking about Father brought on a heavy feeling of deep sadness, but he didn't let it show. Draco's face was like a map, happy and carefree. When, in reality, he was dying inside. It was so strange, lounging here having a good time, when darkness was consuming the world. People were dying, and they say here chugging Butterbeer and listing to the Quidditch game on the radio. Who cared if the Whimborne Wasps won? What matter was the looming chill that surrounded them. Draco was ashamed of himself for spending so much time not working on the Dark Lord's orders, even if it only was an hour and a half. He was getting tired of having to be social anyway.

"If got to leave," he said, standing up, "I'll catch up with you all later." Then he stood up and left. As he walked down they hall, he bummed into a certain redhead.

"I heard you all the way down the hall," Astoria commented, "You must of been having a good time." Draco smile when he saw the emerald glinting on her neck.

"I should have invited you," he said awkwardly.

"No, really," she insisted, "it's fine, I don't like being around a lot of people. Especially for long periods of time. I'm just worried about you giving away the position of our common room."

"Well, thank you," he said smoothly, regaining his composure, "you're sister is quite the charmer."

"Charming little snake if you ask me." She then walked past him, leaving him standing by a very ugly painting of a troll by a Greek water fountain.

Draco was still in denial. There was no humanly way he was in love with Astoria. He was simply using her. He was alone. Completely alone and set an impossible task.

Draco needed a new plan. The cabinet wasn't working out. Try as he might, it would not yield. He refused to try it on the other bird. Midnight, she'd called it. He wouldn't harm anything else. Except what was necessary, of course.

Another Hogsmeade weekend approached, and Draco formed yet another plan. It was weak, and it probably wouldn't work, but he needed to do something.

He paid yet another visit to Borgin, who sold him the poison. He bought the mead from Rosmerta. He mixed the two to make a very lethal drink. Now was the hard part.

Draco concealed the bottle in his cloak when he passed through the Hogwarts gates. The Secrecy Detector did not pick it up, only mead. The poison wasn't Dark enough, but it was still a killer.

He headed for Professor Slughorn's office. He rapped sharply on the cedar door.

"Come in!" said the jolly voice within. The old Professor was reclining by his desk, enjoying a box of crystalized pineapple.

"What is it Draco?," Slughorn asked joyfully, "Need help with the homework, eh?"

Draco slipped the wand of of his pocket, and gripped it firmly.

"What's wrong Draco?" Draco slowly raised his wand level with the old man's head.

"Draco…?" Slughorn looked confused. Surely a _student _wouldn't attack him?

_"Imperious." _

The old man's eyes slid back in his head. He looked cold and limp. Draco didn't panic, he knew some people reacted differently to the Imperious curse.

"You will give this as a present to Professor Dumbledore," Draco said clearly, setting the mead on the table, "A late Christmas present. You will speak of this to no one. You will forget I was the one who gave this to to you." He emphasized the last sentence more than any other. Than he left.

Draco worried he had not tone the spell strong enough, that Slughorn would disobey some of his orders. All were imperative to the plan. Worse, he feared he had done the spell to strongly and addled the old man's brain. But, sure enough, Slughorn was jolly and alive as ever the next day at Potions. He showed no signs he he remembered the night before.


	10. Blame

** I'm so exited, this being chapter 10. A super-happy birthday to Mr. Tom Felton! I know I can't respond to all my fantastic reviewers 'cause I have my PM off, but I wanted to give a special thanks to all of you here. Hope you enjoy reading it and are enthralled. Enjoy!**

**-Kit Kat**

Draco waited in silent anticipation, would the potion truly be delivered to Dumbledore? It seemed strange, like taking the easy way out.

He didn't have to wait very long. The potion never made it past Slughorn. It actually landed in the hands of a certain Blood Traitor by the name of Ronald Weasley.

Draco didn't feel as much guilt as he had about Katie. Maybe he was becoming more and more heartless. The idea of being heartless both scared him and appealed to him.

But how could he be heartless? He couldn't, not when he was losing his heart to a certain Astoria Greengrass.

He walked down the hallway to his next class. He saw her standing around and talking to some friends. She seemed happy and content, but she also seemed out-of-place.

"Could I steal you for a second?" he asked. She appeared surprised.

"Just a moment," she told her friends, seconds before Draco pulled her into an empty classroom.

"I was wondering," he began in a hushed voice, staring intently at her, "if you might…want to join me in the Room later. I have something I'd like to discuss with you." He could tell by the understanding in her face she knew what he meant by 'the Room', although that was what he only called it in his head.

"I'm sorry, I can't." She said it softly. As if she regretted each word as it dripped from her mouth and landed a blow. It wasn't an offensive statement, even an slightly sad one. Yet it confused and hardened what little bit of a heart Draco had left.

Draco always saw her alone, on her own. He knew she had friends, but she appeared lonely even when she was around them. He didn't understand it. But why would she turn him down? Did she no longer feel for him _What, _he scolded himself sharply, _am I thinking? Feel for me? She finds me interesting, a bit exotic I suppose. But she felt more for Snow than she would ever for me. And I? I find her merely irritating. _Lying to himself was so easy. It made being incompassionate and thoughtlessness much simpler and well-executed. _But in an amusing sort of way, _he had to the end, he only inquired,

"Why, exactly?" Draco didn't mean it, but it came off more demanding and intimidating than merely inquisitive. Maybe it was because that was the side of him he was most used to showing.

"I can't spend time with you, Draco. I'm sorry, but I've decided you're really not the best influence. It tears me to pieces, really," she said pleading. She looked up at him, begging him to understand. Sadly, Draco did not have a understanding bone in his body.

"Absolutely fine," he snapped at her, shattering her brown-eyed stare, "perhaps that horrible sister of yours would be better company. I see she's doing a fantastic job at ignoring you."

"Daphne is not horrible! She's simply… got her priorities wrong." He looked at her with cold indifference.

"I'm sorry," Astoria begged, "please try to grasp what I'm feeling."

"I think I've got the idea," he said, and walked off then and there. Leaving her all by herself in the deserted classroom.

Draco later regretted that decision. He spent days alone working on the cabinet. Times he thought he was making progress. But it was always one step forward and two steps back. He didn't see Astoria around as much. He wondered if she was intentionally ignoring him, or if maybe she had gone back into her regular routine and she had been bumping into him on purpose before. Draco sensed it was some of both. Either way, he felt deserted. Which was ironic and hypocritical of him.

Draco tried to carve out some 'thinking time' into his day. School was getting harder and harder. Being NEWT students, they had intense homework and longer periods. Teachers were less forgiving in grades. Each class was a painfully boring chore. His old friends were friendlier now, but he hadn't changed. Daphne seemed ecstatic he and Astoria were now seldom seen together, Then again, they were seldom seen together before. But now it was in a less secretive way. As if they were openly 'not together' were as before they were privately 'not together'. Officially, anyways. Draco hated this girl gossip nonsense. It made his head spin when he could be focusing on something much more necessary.

So now Draco was strolling alongside the lake. It was a particularly cold early spring/late winter day, although no snow had fallen. The lake was not frozen, just bitter bone-chilling.

He was walking by the big pine tree, the one Astoria normally sat under. Although he would never admit it to himself, he had hoped to catch a glimpse of her. But she wasn't there. The leaves fell from the trees with grace and the wind whirled them around where Astoria should've sat. Draco began to trudge on past lake when he glimpsed something out of the corner of his eye. Something was floating in the lake. A person. Astoria.

Draco ran headlong, fully clothed, into the lake. The icy water splashed him but he payed no mind. He pulled her out of the lake. It took him a moment to realized she was screeching and coughing as he did so.

"What's in the name of Merlin did you go and do that for, Malfoy," she sputtered. Draco was equally irked, seeing as he was freezing cold and soaking wet for no good reason.

"I though you'd drowned!"

"I was swimming!"

"In your clothes?" Astoria frowned heavily at him.

"Look, at first I thought I was going to just dip my toes in. But then before I knew I was splashing and having a good time and relaxing on the water and…"

"That…water…is…_freezing cold!_"

"I know," Astoria said, and then added scathingly, "and I'm glad your just as cold as your heart is now."

"That makes no sense!" She began to walk off, brushing past him. The water was dripping from her hair like off a stalactite and had left a puddle were she had been standing.

"Look, Astoria," Draco began, still determined to have the last word. Although, technically, he already had. Maybe he wasn't satisfied with it, "I just could bear…" He trailed off win he realized he was about to say something kind.

"Couldn't bear _what_?" she snapped uncharacteristically, turning around.

"If you'd left." He said it quietly, definitely reluctantly, but the snarl hadn't quite left his face yet.

"Oh," she said even more softly, a bit caught off guard. She turned back around and started walking away again, but more slowly this time. As if hoping he would call after her. He didn't. He just stood there dripping wet and watched her trudge back to the castle.

Draco was sitting in the Slytherin common room studying. His Charms homework made no sense. He angrily tried to jot down notes and the ink blotted. He clenched his fists in frustration. Just then he heard a slight fluttering sound coming towards him. He looked up. It was an origami paper crane soaring across the room. _Must be enchanted…_he concluded. It landed in his open hand and unfolded itself.

_Thank You For Caring_

_Sorry I Had Leave You Behind_

_But I Just Was Getting Too Lost_

_I Your Cold Grey Eyes_

_I Won't Say I'm Sorry_

_But Thank You_

_For Not Telling Me Lies_

_~ A_

Slowly, Draco clenched his fist and crumpled the crane, then threw it into the roaring fireplace.

"Hi, Draco!" said a gleeful voice behind him. It was Daphne.

"Sooo," she said, sitting far to close next to him for his comfort, "what are doing?"

"Studying for this idiotic Charms test," he replied shortly, scooting slightly away from her.

"Well, I was wondering if you knew where Astoria was," she said, trying to look honest. As if that was the real reason she had come to talk to him.

"No idea."

"Oh, 'cause I just can't find her anywhere." She giggled ostentatiously.

"I don't know," he said pointedly, looking straight into her eyes. He scooted even farther away from her.

"Oh? 'Cause we were walking along the fifth floor and she was all like 'I've got to go.' and then she just, like, left." This perked Draco interest.

"But enough about _her. _How are you?" she asked, seeming genuinely interested.

"I'm _horribly_ sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all, "but I've got to leave now." He scooped up his this and hurried to the Prefect's dormitory. After promptly dumping them on his bed he raced back though the common room, out the secret entrance, and down the hallway. He didn't stop running (and bumping into several people) until he reached the entrance to the Room of Hidden Things. He burst in suddenly, finding exactly what he was looking for.

There was Astoria, sitting quietly on her bench, looking solemn. She was watching the black bird flitter around it's once-shared cage.

"Hello," she said softly, as if dreading his response.

"Astoria," Draco began loudly, the pure opposite of her, "I'm sorry."

She froze. Her features seemed to turn to stone and her fingers which clenched the bench seemed to become part the fixture itself.

"You are?"

Why had he said that? Did he even mean it? _I did, _he realized with shock, _I meant it._

"I'm sorry I've been such a…monster. I'm sorry I'm such a liar. Your wrong, Astoria, for the first time, even. Your wrong. About me. I did lie to you. What's worse, I refuse to tell you the truth."

"You do?" One step forward an two steps back.

"I…." Draco he stopped. He walked over and sat down next to her. He was about to begin what he was sure was the end of his life.

"No," he stated clearly, "I'm going to tell you the truth. And you will hate me for it."

"I couldn't ever hate you." There was truth in her eyes.

"You will."

Silence.

"I've been in here to…to fix that cabinet (he gestured to his left). To let them in."

Silence. She didn't ask who 'they' were.

"I killed Snow." Astoria let out a single, strangled gasp.

"I knew," she said, as a single fell like a diamond and shattered on the floor, "somehow I already knew."

"If I don't fix it. He'll kill me. If I don't let them in, if I don't kill him, he'll kill me."

"Who? Who are you going to kill?" she asked, the horror written on her face.

"Albus Dumbledore."

Silence.

"On who's orders?"

"Lord Voldemort." The tears were falling freely now.

"I can help you, Draco. You don't have to…we'll find a way," she began to choke up, "why? Why do you have to?"

"I was chosen," he began, but then changed his mind. As long as he was being honest, "Punishment for my father's failures."

"Oh, Merlin. But, why you. I…I don't…I don't understa-" He cut her short.

"Astoria, I'm a Death Eater." It was so clear, so simple. Her tears were falling like rain. He held her close. Her teardrop were now falling on his shirt.

"I...I...I don't believe you. It...it can't be..." He only looked at her with sorrowful eyes.

"I don't...I...I can't...I always thought," she said between muffled sobs, "that we were like Snow and Midnight. That you were dark on the outside. But on the inside you were just like me…"

"No!" she screeched suddenly. Pulling away from him, "I can't. I'm sorry. I might tear me apart being without you, but being with you is doing the same." She ran out of the Room, slamming the door behind her.

For the first time in his life Draco Malfoy had to face the consequences of his actions. And the consequences of the tattoo on his arm was losing Astoria. And nothing was worth that. Not his family, not his friends, not his life. Then he realized, truly realized, and was able to admit to himself perhaps the greatest truth in his life. He loved her. And he had lost her. And he had no one to blame but himself.

**Hope you liked it! Don't be afraid to review. I love both constructive criticism and praise!**


	11. A Favor

**So far, I believe, I have been completely true to the canon. However, I feel like in this chapter I must make a slight deviation. In the book Draco is seen talking to Moaning Myrtle before the whole "Sectumsempra" episode, as you probably know. I decided to change her to Astoria. It just fits better. And, in my defense, there was no Myrtle moment in the movie and Astoria could've been there and just not mentioned. :) Oh, and **_**vulnera coirent**_** is Latin for "heal wounds" :). Another thing, I need your help. I think my Astoria is to indecisive and ALWAYS crying. But I don't know how to write it different. Suggestions? I'm always open to your ideas. So, hope you enjoy it, as always.**

**-Kit Kat**

**"I'm seeing stars and there's nothing more that I hate,"**

**"Baby, there's something I got to say,"**

**"It's disgusting, how I love you."**

**"I can't take it."**

**"I should hate you."**

**~ Miranda Cosgrove, Disgusting**

Katie came back.

She was back from St. Mungo's, perfectly happy. People rushed about her in the Great Hall, cheering and patting her on the back. Katie smiled kindly at all of them. Younger students looked up at her in wonder. Older students gave her there sympathy. Leanne never left Katie's side.

When Draco first saw her, he paled. More than usual, even. She was talking to Potter. He heard her crisp, slightly troubled, voice rise above the noise in the Hall.

"I know you're going to ask, Harry, but I don't know who cursed me." She sounded genuinely worried. Potter looked angry. Bell glanced over Harry's shoulder at Draco. She looked momentarily stricken, as if she remembered something, but the expression left and her face resumed it's normal complexion. Draco tugged nervously at his collar. Potter stared at him. Draco turned around quickly, pushing little kids out of the way, out of the Great Hall. Was it hot in there, or was it just him? did she remember? It was all his fault. Potter would find out. Potter would tell Dumbledore. And then…Draco couldn't face that possibility. Him, his mother, his whole family in Azkaban. Or worse. If there was a worse. He pulled off his sweater vest, still practically jogging though the Hogwarts corridors. He nearly knocked over Colin McCreevey. Not that he cared about that little Gryffindor pest.

"Draco!" he heard her call his name. He glanced over his right shoulder. It was Astoria, with a look of concern on his face. Draco realized he was sweating hard. Anxiety had taken control now. Astoria started following him. He ducked into the boy's loo to avoid her. She followed him in.

"Draco, I…" she began. He tugged off his silver and green tie and threw it on the floor. Hurriedly splashing water on his face, he looked in the mirror. He looked old. Beaten. Hopelessly distraught. He gripped the sides of the sick so hard his knuckles turned white. He couldn't do it anymore. Voldemort was going to kill him. He was going to die. He was going to die, age sixteen. He couldn't take it. The world seemed to way on his shoulders. He tried to bear this burden with pride. Did he have the guts to kill Dumbledore. To actually kill someone? No, he didn't. And he had to face that now. He had already lost his father. He couldn't…

He gripped the grimy basin and stared into his own grey eyes in the old cracked mirror. He was tremble. He felt tears slip from his eyes. Hot, horrid tears. He was so ashamed. He couldn't help it, though. It was too much.

"Don't," said Astoria pitifully, "Don't…I…I can help you."

"No one can help me! Don't you understand!" he shouted, tears falling fast like big diamonds down the drain. He stared at them as they left his eyes, not wanting to look at her. He whole body shook with emotion.

"I can't do it…" he sobbed,"…I can't…It won't work…and unless I do it soon…he says he'll kill me…" Draco looked back up into the ancient mirror. With a gasp, he saw a figure behind him. Tall, skinny, with a lightning bolt scar. Harry Potter.

"I know what you did, Malfoy," Potter said, his voice teeming with rage. He barely even glanced at Astoria. Draco spun around and pointed his wand at Harry's forehead._ Stupify_ he thought. A large bolt of red light jettisoned from his wand. Harry blocked, and sent a curse his way. Draco barely avoided it it.

"No! No!" Astoria screamed, "Stop it ! Stop! STOP!" Neither of them were listing to her. Both were fire curses and hexes like there was no tomorrow. And, for Draco, there mightn't be. The light was blinding. Someone (it was impossible to tell who) hit a sink with a large, yellow bolt. It burst, spraying water everywhere, soaking them all. Draco hoped the newt thing that burst wouldn't be Astoria. If Potter accidentally hit her with even a minor jinx he would kill him. And if _he_ was the one to unintentionally injure her…he couldn't even bear to imagine that scenario.

"Stop, Draco, please!," Astoria cried, her tears more more precious than his, "You'll hurt him!" Deep fury boiled inside him like he'd never felt. It was one thing to fail at his one hour. One thing for Potter to see him cry. But it was something like to nothing else for Astoria to _care_ about Harry. About _his_ welfare. Of course, she thought Draco was the strong one. That he would emerge the winner. Victorious. But what if she wrong? What if he was the one left in pain…he only had to prove her right. He stared at Potter's awful face, pointed his wand, and said was seething wrath,

_"Cruci-"_

Draco never finished the curse. He was hit by a blinding pain. He fell to the floor, which was now covered in water. He felt as if he had been slashed by a sword. He was cut in several places. There was literally blood on his hands. He felt as if he was being ripped apart. Things started going foggy. _Astoria…_he thought wildly, maybe even croaking it aloud…_Astoria. _He could hear her voice fading…

"Murder!" she was screaming, "Murder in the bathroom!" Then she was kneeling beside him, her tears falling on his face.

"What have you done!" she screeched. The last thing Draco remembered was a big, black, swooshing cloak and Astoria's brown eyes before he completely blacked out.

Her voice was also the first thing he heard when he woke up.

"I won't leave him," she said, indignantly, "You can't make me."

"I very well can-"

There was pristine white sheets covering him. He was surrounded by people. Someone was holding his hand. A small, slim hand.

"Am I dead?" he asked groggily, as his vision cleared.

"Your'e awake!" Astoria said happily, "I'd thought you'd died. Good thing for Professor Snape-"

"Young lady, I told you. Master Malfoy needs his rest."

"Calm, Madam Pomfrey." It was Dumbledore. He was peering down at Draco over his half-moon spectacles. His long beard nearly brushed Draco's head.

"She really ought to leave-"

"I'll curse you if she does," Malfoy threatened. Not two minutes wake and already being nasty to people.

"My word, young man-"

"Calm, Madam. The boy is in shock. He nearly died, after all. Maybe we should leave them in peace?"

"All right, but I don't like taking orders from an indignant little…"

Once they were gone, Astoria started crying again.

"I knew something was going to happen…I should've stopped him…"

"You did all you could."

"I just…" Draco watched the guilt tear her pretty features.

"Astoria?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor?" She nodded, looking cautious.

"Never bloody leave me again, will you?" She only looked at him, a sad expression dominating her face.

"I'm sorry, Astoria."

"I'll protect you, Astoria. I'll die before I'll let anyone harm you." Astoria barely smiled a ghost of a smile and Draco cold icy heart melted.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I've got to go." He frowned. She looked upset, but not that she had to go. Like she wanted to escape. Almost like something about him was bothering her.

"You don't enjoy my company?" he asked.

"No," she said, still unsure. She was still crying, "I just…I can't…" She sobbed into his clean sheets. She quickly looked up and kissed him on the forehead. Warmth spread to his toes. Then she ran. All the way out the door and out of sight.

Draco was confused. Why was she angry? Why did she seemed so distraught? He could tell something was tearing at her sinless heart.

He worried about her.

Draco took time to heal. He stayed in the hospital wing for weeks. He now understood Montague's suffering for he was also fed "awful blue potion." Madam Pomfrey slathered some strange yellow goop over his wounds. Something she called, "Vulnercoir". It smelt like lemon and honey but it stung like salt would.

Draco was seeing less and less of Astoria. She seemed sad or distracted the few times she did visit. Eventually she just stopped. He was horribly confused. Where as Daphne sent him flowers and little get-well cards with lace. And Draco truly hated it.

Once he was well again he decided to go walk by the lake again. Hoping to see her.

And there she was, sitting under her tree. Wearing her uniform skirt and button-up shirt. Her Slytherin pendant was lying in the damp dirt beside her. He walked up to her. She gave the impression she was expecting him.

"I'm glad your well," she said formally, staring out onto the now frozen lake.

"Why are you avoiding me, Astoria?" She look him in the eye and ask,

"What if it was me?"

"I don't understand."

"What if the Dark Lord had ordered you to kill _me_. Would you do it?"

"Astroria…I…" he fumbled carelessly over the words, "No…I…I couldn't…"

"I don't believe you," she spat at him. It felt like a slap across the face.

"Astoria, I would never…" She stood up and took a step toward him.

"You're a coward, Malfoy, that's all you ever were." For the first time since the day she dropped the photograph, Draco was angry at her.

"I am not!" he shouted at her and took a step foreword. She recoiled. She looked at him again like that. Like she did on the first day she met him like he was…a monster or something.

"I'm sorry Astoria…I…"

"No, your'e not! You were already to curse Potter. With the Cruciatus Curse! don't you know what that does? How much that would hurt…"

"He bloody deserved it."

"Look who's talking! A freaking _Death Eater_." Draco quickly looked over his shoulder to make sure no one heard. The lakeside was deserted. It was to cold out for anyone to want to hang out outside. Anyone but her. Still,

"Keep your voice down!"

"Why? You should be rotting away with your father right now.."

"How dare you talk about my father!"

"I know! How _dare_ I! Pathetic little half-blood talk about your precious _father._ And the worst part is you actually got me to _care_ about you!"

"What?" Draco stared her. Whether in horror or admiration, he wasn't sure. She just shook her head back and forth. She looked like she was going to start crying again. She looked…scared of him….liked she regretted what she'd said.

"I care! I don't want you to leave. They'd probably lynch you on the spot, the way the Ministry of Magic's headed! Tell me it isn't true, Draco. I just…I can't believe it. I refuse to. I had so much hope in you. Maybe I thought I could change you."

"No one can change me. No one can help me now. I'm to far gone."

"Tell me it isn't true, Draco." Draco's hand instinctively went to his left wrist. Then, once his realized it, he slowly raised his white cotton sleeve.

"No!" she gasped, staring at his forearm, "It's not…I can't…why? Why?" She dropped to her knees and held his hand is hers. She pressed his palm to her forehead and sobbed. He looked down at her silently. He had never pitied someone, or loved someone, so much. Not his mother. Not even his father. She looked at him with a pleading gaze,

"What if it was me? I can't take that chance…" He knelt down beside her.

"I will _never_ let anyone hurt you. I'll die first."

"How do I know that?" He just looked back at her he had no words. There were just no words. They clogged up at the back of his throat and he knew if some didn't come out soon they would pour all out at once and hurt somebody.

"Exactly," she said, standing up to leave. The words were building up like a dam. But only screaming silence came forth. She turn around and started walking way. She was leaving him because he refused to say the one thing that would make her stay. He had watched her walk away before hadn't he? Right here. Only a couple weeks ago. The dam burst.

"Because I love you!" he called after her with volume he didn't know he had.

She whipped around so fast she was only a blur. And before he knew it she was sobbing in his arms again.

"Draco? Do me a favor."

"Anything."

"Never bloody leave me again, will you?"

** "Tomorrow, I'll be stronger…"**

**"Forget all the regrets that are bound to follow."**

**"We're like fire and gasoline."**

**"I'm no good for and you're no good for me."**

**"We only bring each other tears and sorrow."**

**"But tonight I'll love you like there's no tomorrow."**

**~Chris Young, Tomorrow**


	12. Promise

** More JKR quoting in this one so, for the record, I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to Ms. Rowling. Anything you recognize belongs to her. And **_**aveugle **_**is French for 'blind'. Oh, an tell me your fav moment in this fic and why! I'm deadly curious. **

**NOTE: I started a SEQUEL entitled _These Dark Days Through Someone Else's Eyes, _if you liked this I highly suggest reading it!  
**

**-Kit Kat**

**" 'Cause even the stars, they burn."**

**"Some even fall to earth."**

**"We've got a lot to learn."**

**"God knows we're worth it."**

**"No, I won't give up."**

**~Jason Mraz, I Won't Give Up**

He was so close. He could taste success. A chirp broke his concentration and Draco looked down at the small black bird in his hands. It cocked it's head at him, as if asking him a question. Draco set it at the bottom of the cabinet. It fluttered and appeared as if it was about to take flight. He quickly shut the door.

_"Harmonium Nictere Passus."_

Sound was different this time. More like the wind hissing or ice skates on a frozen pond. Then quiet. He opened the door. The bird was gone.

_"Harmonium Nictere Passus."_

Draco feared he had failed. He didn't hear any sound from inside the cabinet. He opened it to see if Midnight, too, he had killed. He slowly opened the door. Something fluttered.

Suddenly, a something shot out of the cabinet like a small black bullet. It soared overhead and dove in-between the eaves. _Freedom!_ Midnight seemed to say with each little cheep of glee. Draco felt like flying right along with it.

_It works…_he thought, barely containing his excitement…_I'm going to live. Father will be free, too. I will be honored above all others._ Draco threw back his head and laughed.

"Yes!" he shouted, hopeful no on could hear him, "YES! It works!" He jumped up and down and shouted obscenities. "

"It works! I've done it!"

Just then, the door to the Room opened. Draco turned around suddenly, hoping it was Astoria.

"Who's there?" asked a high, female voice, who apparently had not seen Draco over where he was standing. It wasn't, disappointingly, Astoria but Professor Trelawney. Draco acted on instinct, pointing his wand and thought, _Aveuglarmus._

The Proffesor was thrown backwards out the door, blind, the sherry bottles she had been carrying clattering ahead of and next to her. Draco knew from her reaction that she didn't know who it was that had done it, but he her yelling angrily from the other side of the door,

"How…_dare_…you…aaagh!" Draco heard another crash and assume she had tried picking up her bottles and accidentally dropped one.

That was a little to close for comfort. He had nearly exposed his entire plan.

Later that day he was sitting in Transfiguration (his last class of the day), pretending to pay attention to the lecture. In reality he was writing a letter.

_Auntie Bella,_

_I am pleased to inform you that my project is finished. I told you I wouldn't fail. Perhaps we could throw a party on account of my killer success? Tell mum to have some of my friends over. I wouldn't be surprised if the Headmaster dropped dead of surprise. Then again, I am his chosen Prefect._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco_

There, now anyone who decided to check the mail for 'security reasons' would only see a letter from an exited student on account of improved grades. When actually in was a another step in his mission. After all, he was his chosen assassin.

"Mister Malfoy?" McGonagall asked. Draco's head snapped up. The Professor held him in one of her iron glares.

"Yes, Professor," he answered. He sounded cocky enough, but the flush in his checks gave away any lack of bravado.

** "**Are you paying attention, Malfoy?"

"Of course?"

"Then may I see your notes? Ah, it seems you have them right there." She gestured at the letter.

"These are not notes, Professor," he replied, humiliated.

"Oh, really?" Draco figured he might as well come clean. Only because he couldn't think up an adequate lie.

"It's a letter Professor, to my Aunt." Draco couldn't help but let the anger seep through his words. So she thought she could embarrass him in front of the entire class. He could see Crabbe snickering across the room. Some Ravenclaw idiot was trying so hard to muffle his laughs he looked like he was about to fall out of his chair. He knew better than to give cheek to McGonagall. But could he really dig his hole any deeper?

"Per chance you'd care to read it to the class, Malfoy?"

"No, Proffesor." The Ravenclaw made a face.

"You're right, Malfoy, that won't be necessary. You have detention with me tomorrow night, eight o'clock. Would you care to join him Mister Boot?" The Ravenclaw (who had turned pink with unreleased laughter) now looked rather shocked.

"No, Ma'am."

"Then I suggest you keep your unneeded outbursts to yourself." Now it was it was Draco's turn to sicker.

"Now back to what I was saying about mammalian to reptilian transfiguration…"

Draco didn't sleep at all that night.

He thought maybe he could catch a few hours before midnight. Before he let them in. But every time he drifted off he was tortured by nightmares filled with guilt. He was still in contact with Rosmerta. She had reported that Dumbledore had left that night, but he would be back. Draco simply lie on top of his bed, fully dressed. All of his dorm mates had gone to bed before him. None of them noticed when the small silver clock by Draco's bed read twelve a.m.

None of them noticed when he quietly slipped out of bed and put his polished black shoes, when he left them room silent as the stirring wind. No one saw him leave the common room. Filch didn't catch him walking cautiously seven floors up. Doubtless, Ms. Norris heard his hurried footsteps up the ancient stone stairs. Why she didn't alert her master he didn't know. The Room was eerie without even a bird's call to disturb the restless peace. They should be here any second now. If only they knew every second was precious. Every second not with someone you loved was a second wasted.

Then there was a sound. It was expected, yet it broke the ghostly stillness in such a way that Draco nearly jumped. It was like a ice shattering or nails on a chalkboard. Not once, but nearly a dozen times. Draco's pale hand reached out to open it. I didn't matter. The door seemed to open on it's own. Black unearthly smoke poured out and filled the room. The smog materialized into beings in black hoods. People he knew. Then hand on the door handle on the inside had long fingers white as snow with nails painted a red so deep it was nearly black. At first he thought the hand didn't belong to anyone. That it was some sort of wrong magical apparition. But soon the rest of the attached body formed. It was Auntie Bella.

"Well done, Draco!" she cackled in a high, girlish voice, "Now, hurry!" Draco darted from the room as quickly as he could. The Death Eaters followed after him.

It turned out Ms. Norris really had tattled on him. The Filch stood, holding his grimy lantern in the dimness. He before grumpy face went slack with shock.

"Death Eaters!" he hollered, "Death Eaters in the castle!" Ms. Norris ran howling down the corridors, awaking students and teachers alike. The old caretaker ran for his life, screaming the same thing all the way along.

I was if hell had broken loose. Teachers broke out of their rooms in their night robes. Student ran around in panic. Some people starting screaming. The light from the dueling was blinding. Draco felt trapped in the ruckus.

"Master Malfoy," a voice behind him said calmly. It was Yaxley.

"Dolohov and I checked the Head's office. Nothin' there. " Draco had anticipated this.

"Set the Dark Mark above the highest point in the castle. That would be the Astronomy Tower. He'll think someone's died and come running." Yaxley smirked.

"But don't we have to kill someone first? Should I?" he gestured over toward a group of students.

"That's not necessary."

"I'll accompany you then. I doubt you know how." Yaxley smiled down at him condescendingly.

"I do, actually," Draco drawled. _Even if I never did want to know, _he thought. His father had told him, just before they hauled him off to prison. The event still haunted Draco. He remember it like it had happen just this morning. The thought pierced his heart like a dagger.

_Draco sat stone-face on a wooden bench in the courtroom. The room was circular, with benches all around the sides except for the head where the Minister of Magic himself sat, the jury on either side. And in the middle of the cold, badly lit room was his father. Tied to a wooden chair. His hands and feet were shackled with cold iron cuffs. _

_ "I told you, I'm not a Death Eater!" his father's pleading brown eyes searched Scrimgeour's blacks once. They appeared to beg each individual jury member. They all sat in quiet distaste._

_ "Those in favor of conviction?" Slowly, hands were raised. So many it was hard to find someone who didn't have theirs in the air, no matter how high. _

_ "Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" Four hands out of the maybe fifty went into the air. People father had paid off or blackmailed. _

_ "No!" Lucius screeched, "I'll do anything! Money is no object! Ask for, it'll be yours! Don't…please…my family! Think of my boy!" Lucius gestured wildly over to Draco. It would have been endearing if Lucius actually cared about his son, and not his own welfare. _

_ "Think of how many families _you've_ torn apart!" yelled a young woman in the audience, "how many sons you've separated from their fathers! You deserve where you're going!" Angry shouts for justice rippled though the crowd. Narcissa sobbed into her silk handkerchief. Draco was like a statue. Emotionless, unable to take it all in. His father was being thrown into Azkaban. Their family was being publicly humiliated. His mother would never recover. _

_ "Silence in the court!" bellowed Scrimgeour, "Take him away!" A pair of Aurors swept toward the elder Malfoy. _

_ "Wait!" shrieked his wife, "let Draco say goodbye!" Unable to face goodbyes herself, and yet hoping to gain any leftover pity, she shoved Draco into a awkward situation. _

_ Lucius gripped Draco's face with cuffed hands._

_ "Morsmordre," Lucius barely whispered into his son's ear, "remember it."_

_ Then they took him away._

Draco remembered standing in front of dozens of flashing cameras. Reporters each trying to get a question in.

"Do you think you father was wrongly accused?"

"What did he tell you before they dragged him away?"

"Are you still in shock?"

Draco didn't answer any of them. He only stared into the glaring camera light with a an angry scowl dominating his features. _The Daily Prophet_ headline the newt morning?

_Lucius Malfoy Arrested as Death Eater-Malfoy Family Still Recovering. _

Shame. There was no other reword to describe his feelings then. Shame.

That's why bringing back the family honor was so important, why making his father proud was imperative.

But what hurt Draco more than anything was his father's last words. Not pride. Not forgiveness. Certainly not love. Not a simple 'goodbye'. He didn't ask Draco to take care of Narcissa or to do keep moving forward. It was just another order. An order of a madman.

His father deserved why he got and Draco knew it. And yet he was following right in dear daddy's footsteps. Why? Because he had to battle the shame his father had brought. He was fighting fire with fire.

Snapping out of his little flashback, Draco led Yaxley up the Astronomy Tower's stairs.

Pointing his wand at the sky, hands shaking, Draco shouted with a cracked voice.

_"Morsmordre!"_

Wisps of green light spewed from his wand and collected in the sky to form the Mark.

"Well, it looks like you do know," Yaxley said, "good thing, too, because I don't."

Was that jealously he saw in the man's face? Because he held information-power-that this grown man didn't.

"I'm going to wait for him here. You go back and get the others." Yaxley nodded, obviously disturbed at the thought of taking orders from a sixteen-year-old. But he left all the same. As soon as he was sure Yaxley had gone, Draco burst out the door and ran downstairs. People were dueling left and right. Draco searched hallways, looking for her. Looking for Astoria. He stepped over what he thought was a dead body. He ran into her on the second floor, being cornered by no less than Fenrir Greyback. She seems to be putting up a fight, but he blocked all her jinxes. Soon he got so close the he knocked the wand out of her hand, looked as if he was ready to lunge…

** "**Oi! You!" Draco yelled. Fenrir spun around, a hungry look in his yellow eyes.

"She's on our side!" Fenrir backed away, still eyeing Astoria hungrily, who had picked up her wand and now had it pointed at the werewolf's forehead.

"I wasn't aware you were invited to the party?" Draco inquired coldly.

"I decided to tag along," said Greyback, and he chuckled, showing his gruesome rotting teeth. And with that he bounded away.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked her.

"Fine," she snapped, "I didn't need you help. And what did you mean 'on our side'? I'm most certainly not on your side! I suppose this is all your doing?" Draco ignored the last question.

"You didn't want me to save you? You wanted to be torn apart by that monster?" Astoria shrugged unconvincingly.

"As long as you love me," he said, "you're on my side."

"I never said I loved you." Draco didn't know what to say. He looked at her in hurt soundlessness.

"But I do," she said and smiled, "I love you. I can't believe myself. I hate myself for it. I go to sleep every night trying to make myself forget that I do, but I do. I love you." He gave her a sad smile.

"I'm might not make it tonight, Astoria. This morning was probably my last sunrise. Tonight is probably the last time I'll ever look into your eyes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to do this. I'm sorry have to leave you behind. I know…I know I promised….I promised I'd never leave you…but…I just…Astoria? Just never forget me. Live your own life. Stop trying to make yourself forget. Don't love someonne your only going to lose." For the first time in his life, Draco was being entirely selfless.

"No!" she begged, "You promised! You promised you'd never leave! We'll run away! I'll…I'll keep you safe." He laughed softly.

"Don't you get it, love? I'm going to die no matter what happens. I have no future. I only have you." He saw how hard she was fighting back tears. Refusing to cry. Being strong…for him. He didn't want her to have to be strong for him.

"I love you, Astoria," he said loudly, wanting to be heard over the madness surrounding them. He didn't care who knew anymore. He tilted her chin up towards his pale face and looked into her chocolate eyes, "I love you. I'd die for you, and for the last year, I've lived for you." And then he kissed her. He had never been happier. He was lost in a world where only they existed. Her lips were soft like pink roses or marble. But he had to pull away back to reality.

She looked into his eyes one more time. Begging him not to go. He turned away and walked back to the Astronomy Tower. He didn't want to look back. He had been taught to never look back. But he did. She was standing there with the world falling down around her, just looking at him him, watching him leave. Her red hair was draped around her shoulders. She was even paler in to moonlight. She mouthed the words 'I Love You'. He turned around again and kept walking. Then he broke into a run. He ran all the way to the Tower. He stood at the door. He could hear voices. He burst through the door. Albus Dumbledore stood alone near the railing. He did not look upset or afraid.

"Good Evening, Draco." Draco glanced at the ground. Two brooms lay there.

"Who else is here?"

"A question I might ask you. Or are you acting alone?"

"No, I've got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight." Draco smiled at his own accomplishment. Now maybe the old man had reason to fear.

"Well, well," the Headmaster said, not afraid at all. Amused even, "very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?" Draco was hyperventilating now, he was so exited. His white-blond hair stuck to his sweating forehead.

"Yeah, right under your nose and you never realized!"

"Ingenious. Yet…forgive me…where are they now? You seem unsupported."

They met some of you 're having a fight down below. They won'y be long…I came on ahead. I…I've got a job to do."

"Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy." The elder man didn't seem even upset. Was he mad? Did he know he was about to die? Draco shook as he slowly pointed his wand at Dumbledore's head. He couldn't, he had to, but he couldn't.

"Draco, Draco, you are not a killer."

"How do you know?" Draco snapped at him, "You don't know what I'm capable of! You don't know what I've done!" But Draco did, and the guilt was killing him piece by piece.

"Oh yes, I do," the Headmaster said as Draco continued to point his wand at him, "You almost killed Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. You have been trying, with increasing desperation, to kill me all year. Forgive me, Draco, but they have been feeble attempts…So feeble, to be honest, that I wonder whether your heart has really been in it."

"It has been in it," he insisted, thinking of what Astoria would say. How she would say he lost his heart along the way, "I've been working on it all year. And tonight-" He didn't finished his argument. He didn't tell Professor Dumbledore how he had cried, bleed, and deprived himself of sleep all this year. Because he head a strangled yell very close below stairs. It was female. He frantically wondered if it was Astoria.

"Sounds like someone's putting up a fight." Draco lowered his wand at the man's heart. He argued back and forth with him. Desperately trying to sound confident, as if he knew what he was doing. He should kill him already. But he fell into the age-old trap that all villains do. The unexplainable need to explain devious plans. So he told old Dumbledore show he had fixed the cabinet and unmercifully cursed Rosmerta. But he couldn't. The old man seemed weak, like he was struggling to stand.

"…I can help you Draco." His wand was shaking badly now. Draco face's was so pale it was nearly transparent.

"No you can't. No one can. Don't you understand? I've got to kill you. Or he's going to kill me!"

"Come over to the right side Draco…" Dumbledore offered. He said he would protect Draco, hide him. His mother, too. Lies, probably. They would most likely just give him a cell next to Lucius. But still, it was tempting. To be safe. For Astoria to be safe. Not that he knew about Astoria.

He didn't have time to refuse. Because then then the Death Eaters broke in.

"Well done, Draco, well done!" laughed Aunt Bella. She clapped like a little schoolgirl.

"Evening, Bellatrix." Dumbledore said softly.

"Crazy old man," Aunt Bella spat. Then she turned to Draco, her black robes twirling.

"Such a good boy! Mummy will be so proud! Now…do it!" He shook in fear. He knew the spell. Two words would be all it took. Two words and the willpower.

"Do it Draco!" she hissed. Just then, Snape entered.

"Severus…" Dumbledore pleaded.

"Draco!" Aunt Bella screamed.

"Severus…please…" Dumbledore said.

_"Avada Kedavra."_

It wasn't Draco's spell that sent Dumbledore over the railing. It was Snape's.

Snape, who had wanted all the glory. Snape, the only man the Dark Lord had trusted more than Lucius. He had killed Dumbledore.

But Draco didn't care. _I'm going to live. I'm going to be able to wake up each morning knowing that my life doesn't depend on another man's death._

"Out of here…quickly," ordered Snape. Before he knew it Draco had been seized by the scruff of his neck and hauled out of the room. He followed Snape downstairs and watched the war raging around them. Spells were flying and people were screaming. Little kids in pajamas hid under gigantic suits of armor for protection. Older student were trying to help defend the school. Draco wanted to find Astoria, to make sue she was alright. But he faithfully followed Snape through the the twisted stone hallways. Then ran across the grounds towards the forest. Some other Death Eaters had set Hagrid's hut ablaze, and Draco felt no remorse.

"_Stupefy!" _shouted a voice behind them. It was Potter, his eyes filled with hate.

"_Run, Draco!"_ Snape panted. Draco did as he was told. He was not concerned about Snape. He could take care of himself. Astoria was the only thing that mattered now. Draco ran for the dense forest.

The Forbidden Forest was dark and Halloween-ish at night. Owls hooted in the old creepy trees and he could here the battle raging in the distance. Draco ran into the Death Eaters who had ignited the Hut. Aunt Bella was among them.

"I killed Sirius Black!" she chanted over and over. She was taunting a person not present. Draco traveled with the group until they reached the edge of the forest nearest the lake. They were all mostly intent and solemn with an exception. Draco deserted them at the edge and made a run for the castle. He could smell smoke and the greenish light from the Dark Mark illuminated the lake.

"Astoria!" he shouted. She was over by a tree near the lake's shore. She was watching the fight from a distance.

"Your alive!" she exclaimed. She threw her arms around him and sobbed.

"It's…it's okay. I won't leave you again," he told her.

"I don't believe you."

"I know. I know I don't deserve to be believed," he admitted.

"Daph's in there. She…she told me…to run. She could be dead for all I know."

"She's safe. I saw her hiding with a group of Prefects in the south hall. They won't find her there." She looked up at him.

"Did you do it?"

"No," he said calmly, "I didn't kill him. But he's dead."

"He…he won't kill you?"

"Probably not. I care more about your safety, though." He took her hand, "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. And if it comes down to it, I will die for you. But for right now you know the best thing for you safety is to stay as far way from me as possible."

"No!"

"I'll write Astoria. Every day. I'll try to stay alive, for you. But I'm afraid I've just started a full-scale war that goes beyond you and me."

"But…"

"You'll be okay. Look," he held up the necklace around her neck. The one he had given her for Christmas, "as long as this emerald doesn't turn black-I"m alive and still love you."

"Really?"

He nodded and took her hand in his, "I was broken. I will always be broken. But you didn't try to fix me. You healed me. You gave me something worth living for." Then they stood there and watched the world burn.

**"I guess you really did it this time."**

**"Left yourself in your warpath."**

**"Lost your balance on a tightrope."**

**Lost your mind trying to get it back…"**

**"Who you are is not where you've been."**

**"You're still an innocent."**

**~ Taylor Swift, Innocent**

_Fin_


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